


Brothers Transposed

by wolfie180g



Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Swap, Borrower Sam, Borrowers - Freeform, Brief description of violence, Brothers Apart, Comfort/Angst, Contest winner!, Crack, Cursed Dean, Cursed Sam, Don't Try This At Home, Fanart, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, G/T, Gen, Giant Dean, Giant Sam, Giant/Tiny, Growing, Illustration, Multichapter, Off Screen Death, Original Character Death(s), Photomanip, Picture, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Scary, Shrinking, Some Cursing, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Tip your pizza boy, WIP, a terrible attempt at photo manipulation, borrower dean, brief pot scene, contest 2017, kinda case fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 96,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfie180g/pseuds/wolfie180g
Summary: While on a case, the brothers wake up to find their worlds completely changed.Sam had been cursed to live at just 4 in. tall since he was just 10 and Dean was 14, abandoned by his family who thought he had died during a witch's attack. Not seeing him on the ground at all, they hunted the witch responsible for weeks before loosing her trail many towns away. Dean and John had hunted until Dean was old enough to hunt solo. Dean had gotten a text for the same town they'd left Sam in and happened to check into the same hotel. Sam was searching for food and got caught out away from his exits into the walls where the little folks pathways and homes were. Dean captured Sam in a fist and after a rough start, they figured out who each other really were.  Soon, Sam trusted his gigantic human brother enough to go with them after the fiery tragic loss of his family under the floorboards.Over a year since reuniting, the brothers continued the hunt. Meeting and saving all kinds of innocents from monsters. This, however, wasn't a normal hunt. They were originally after a mystery object that might have some supernatural hoodoo left in it. Needing to ID and retrieve it to the rightful owners. But, it got them first.





	1. Borrower You for a Minute?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightmares06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/gifts).



 

**  
Brother's Transposed**

A Brother's Apart fanfic.

 

Chapter One:  
Borrower You for a Minute?

 

 

The air in the hotel room seemed to shift around Sam as he slowly woke up that morning. A cleaner scent then the usual musty smell of old IKEA wood of the garden variety nightstand that seemed to be a requirement for every hotel room they've stayed in before. A staple that he could rely on no matter what state they passed through on their way from monster hunt 'A' to supernatural event 'B'.

He felt like he was suffering from either a minor head injury or he was somehow drugged up, because everything felt like it was swimming in his head. Thoughts scattering like kids after school. Feeling all kinds of disoriented. Like his limbs were too heavy and his head too light. Sam laid there, eyes still closed and willing himself to remember what he did before going to bed, because what's going on with him _now_ is just weird. Maybe this was jet lag? Hearing the term a few times but never fully explained. Being small enough to fit in a pocket meant that he could be more susceptible to it since his modes of transportation moved faster and farther then he ever could on his own. His human brother acting like a living taxi that hauls him around at a height comparable to small aircraft, were Sam human sized. The Impala was like a rocket that moved horizontally, he knew just doing the calculations would hurt his head even more at the moment, so let it be for now. He simply knew it must be 'really fucking fast'.

Maybe his body is just now catching up to the fact that the speed and height of his daily travel is giving him jet lag? That notion was brushed away the next moment. Jet lag wouldn't still be an issue after a good nights sleep. Add to the fact that he'd been traveling with Dean for awhile now, and it's never made him this disoriented waking up.

He shifted under his blankets and found two instead of his usual one. Frowning slightly at the oddity he squinted at the sheet that half covered his head. Pushing the covers aside and finding that the bed too was different then usual. His own bed had been kind of stiff, but comfortable. It was built for a doll house after all, and fake dolls didn't complain about the lack of proper back support for their plastic butts. More dignified then a tissue box, but, well, come to think of it, he wouldn't say no to one of those in a pinch... But that was beside the point, the bed he found himself on now didn't feel like his. This one actually had a bit of _spring_ to it, testing it out with a slight bounce up and down, fingers pressing into the soft sheet underneath him as well. Nothing about the bed smelled right either. Did Dean replace his with a new doll sized one?

He blearily pushed himself up into a sitting position and stretched and yawned deeply. The dim light barely illuminating the room from off to the side where the books should be. Books that were the only things hiding his makeshift bedroom under the nightstand from the hotel room proper. But now? There were no books. And there was another bed across from him. His old bed? He stared absently at it for a few seconds, squinting at it like it was another of Dean's pranks on him, or if the one he's on now is the new gift, but Dean didn't want to get rid of his old bed for sentimentalism's sake?

A glance around the rest of the room showed that his desk and chair were missing. Replaced by apparently a dolls nightstand, a small table with two chairs on the other, and dresser off to the other side of his space. A thin black box like shape resting on top with a slightly reflective front to it. His eyes still not cooperating with his head well enough to tell much more then basic shapes and colors.

Warning bells were going off in his head as nothing was adding up. He turned is body and attention to the other side of his bed. Intending to leave his nightstand room, going by the source of the light in the space and stared at the curtains there. No books. Curtains. He stood up, swaying slightly, and went towards them. Peeking through the crack in the curtains to see blinding white lights beyond, slowly resolving into apparently, a toy replica of the Impala and other cars. A parking lot. His heart beat a little faster, stepping back from the thing that looked like a window the longer he stared at it with widening eyes. It went from his knees to just above his head level, and wider then his arm reach but not nearly as colossal as windows usually tended to be for his kind.

“No. Nonono... what's going on? Dean?” He muttered and found his voice coming out all wrong as well. Nothing about this morning was making _any damned sense_! He assumed that for some reason Dean put him in a doll house sized hotel room that was starting to look more like a _real freakin' hotel_ room and not an elaborate prank. To make matters worse, his head still felt like it was going to explode with the pounding his hearts making.

And that heart is really racing now as he hesitantly went to the only thing that wasn't furniture in the room, a duffel bag on the floor in the corner, and stared at it for a few seconds. The bag looked so familiar and it took him a second to realize why. It was Dean's bag but _his_ size. He hesitantly touched the canvas of it, half expecting a shock of some kind. Like making contact with it was going to collapse a singularity or some crap he'd heard from that late night movie. A rift in time and space, if he interacted with it, it would snap all of reality around him. Something from an alternate reality that transported itself to his world. Expecting the worse, it surprised and pleased him immensely to see that reality still existed, even with this thing that belonged to Dean, but Sam's size. As impossible as it was, it was just a regular bag. Sam wondered if he'd have such troublesome thoughts about the other much more supernatural sights this morning if he was at full cognitive capacity.

He shrugged to himself and unzipped it quickly, dumping out all of the things within. Clothes, shaving kit, first aid box, and finally a knife and gun falling out and clattering to the floor loudly. He lifted the knife which was the only thing so far that looked familiar but even that was different. More roughly made. Not like his own that Dean made himself, which was finer crafted. That feeling of unease hitting him a bit more forcefully then the bag did. Bags can be duplicated easier then this knife. He darted to the pillow on the bed he woke up in and threw it to the floor between the beds. There was a knife there, but that wasn't his either. It was Dean's. The pearl handle on it glinting in the dim light coming into the room.

Since waking, nothing in the room belonged to him. It was all Dean's. When will his head stop throbbing long enough to let him figure this crap out?!

“Dean?!!” he shouted the first thing to come to mind when hes in trouble and wants to know what the hell is going on, and heard a slight thump at his feet. Eyes darting down to the small nightstand. “What the....” Sam crouched down a little, peering down at the books that were upright against the opening on the bottom. He strained his ears and heard soft cursing coming from behind the books. He propped up his body with one hand on top of the nightstand and the other went to remove a book. The whole set up scarily familiar. His fingers grazed the book gently, the careworn cover softer then he'd found it before. Nudging it slowly to get it into an easier position to pull out and down to the ground below the bottom shelf. The other book followed and it too was a perfect replica of the book he'd stared at before falling asleep every night. Fingers tracing the slight indents made by the letters that were embossed into the spine and front. Setting it down with trembling hands next to it's mate.

He held his breath and ducked his head down a bit to look inside the nightstand's alcove. He saw an impossibly small shape shrink back from the entrance with jerky, small movements. Followed immediately by a startled yelp as it tripped over something behind its feet, that shocked it into a hastier reaction as it backed up all the way, crawling quickly away from the opening. It reached the near black rear wall of the shelf and _screamed_.

Sam fell backwards, landing heavily onto his ass and scooted back as well from the shock. “What the _fuck_?” he shouted again, breaths coming short. No way did he just see that. Hear that. This can't be real. It's not real.

He stayed there for a few minutes. Watching the tiny figure like a hawk to see what it would do. Unable to see into the dark box much at all. Which was also freaky as hell because no matter how pitch black a space was that he looked or resided in, he used to be able to see perfectly fine in it. He'd grown up since the age of 10 in near pitch blackness. And now? A deep bottom shelf of a night stand is giving him trouble??

He could hear muttered curses and small thumps against the thick wood of the nightstand. Like the little thing was testing out the wood to see if it could break through. More curses that sounded more and more upset. It looked like the figure was pressing itself up against the back wall of it, and Sam heard a tiny voice gather up some modicum of courage to shout out at him. Sounding very strained, but determined to get some answers. “What's going on-?” some more slight shuffling sounds like the thing was willing itself to stand its ground. “Why did you steal my face?”

Sam was not expecting that response from the figure, its voice sounding like a man's voice but coming out in a higher strung pitch. Borderline hysterics. “Hey...” he said softer but still pretty loud according to the new flinch from the dark outlined figure. He lowered it even more, “Hey, it's ok little guy. I don't know what you're talking about.” hands going up and out to show there's nothing in them. “I'm not gonna hurt you... unless you're the one that did this?” his voice turning hard after a moment. “Are you responsible for this?” Sam asked, hating how his voice sounded so _familiar but different_. A lot like Dean's voice actually but the tone and temperament was way off.

“Think again, Godzilla! _You_ are the one that stole _my_ face! You tell me!” the figure shouted back, now holding up possibly the worlds smallest knife going by the tiniest glint of metal in one of it's hands.

“I didn't steal...” Sam's hands went to his own face, rubbing the skin there and moving his fingers through his long hair but finding it wasn't long, it had been cut short and was now slightly spiky. He paused and toyed with the spikes a bit, pulling out a few strands and feeling that they had been attached to his scalp from the minute sting. Examining the light brown hairs. Pulling more strands out. Surely there was a mistake. “Did someone cut my hair when I was asleep?” he muttered to himself. An incredulous laugh escaped him for a second, things were getting just way too weird. “ _and dye it_?”

The small dark figure crept forward slightly at the bewildered expression and tone. He cleared his throat and asked the giant the most important question. “Just please. You can do whatever you want with me, Gigantor. Just tell me that you'll leave my family alone.”

“Your family?”

“Yeah. A little dude, was about four inches tall... had this bag with him everywhere.” He lifted up a tiny bag with a three pronged fish hook hanging out of the side. The only thing that came into the light of the room.

Sam's eyes went wide. Before he even thought about what he was doing, he dove forwards, landing on his elbows and knees just outside of the nightstand. The man scrambled backwards, throwing the bag aside as a distraction for his escape but finding the only entrance in and out of the box he was in was now blocked by the giant. Some quiet sounds of distress as it tried in vain to get some distance from his captor. Putting the small bed in-between them.

Sam darted his hand forward, easily snagging the tiny bag in hand and freaking out the little guy even more. Sam lifted it up and turned it side to side, index finger prodding at the delicate clasps of it. Debating if he wanted to force it open. Finding every detail about it accurate, but minuscule. His gaze went from his bag to the figure again. Narrowing dangerously. He heard a few panicked curses and the little guy was backed up all the way to the corner. As far away as it could possibly get.

Sam held up the bag by its little strap, shaking it angrily at the figure. “This. Is _mine_.”

The guy shouted up in a wavering voice. “It's not! It belongs to my brother! Did you do something to him?” the question gaining some anger behind it. “You can't just claim it as yours! Give it back!” A few pissed steps forward and arm outstretched. Anger temporarily driving back the fear.

“Your brother?” Sam frowned deeper again, hand going back to his own face. Noticing small brown dots on the back of his hand, and rubbing at them. The tiny spots weren't coming off. Freckles. He leaned back quickly, still clutching the bag in hand. The bag was nearly squeezed into destruction but Sam caught himself and shakily put it on top of the nightstand.

He ignored the figure for the moment and got to his feet, dashing to the other room where he saw the edge of a tall mirror there. His gut feeling like several bricks were dropped into it. Squinting into the room was even darker then the main one and reminding himself that he can change that. Looking around the walls and finding a light switch. Fingers grazing by it before turning it on. Shocked he was able to use it. The light flicking on without a problem. Something he would have needed help with before. He turned from the palm sized electrical marvel and saw Dean's image against the wall. A startled expression on his face as Dean stood there.

For a moment thinking that Dean's just as surprised as he is to see that they're the same size, but quickly coming to the conclusion that he didn't mistake a mirror for a window. And, it is not Dean standing behind him in a mirror. That's _him_. He's in Dean's body. That is as floor length mirror. His hands came up and started tracing his cheeks, nose, eyebrows and nearly poking himself in the eye with his prodding fingers. It can't be real. Has to be some kind of hallucination. A trick.

Despite all of the pieces falling effortlessly into place, he could not accept it. He can not be in Dean's body. This can't be real. He didn't just suddenly...

He caught movement on the floor behind him and darted his gaze back into the main room. The little guy was running full tilt towards the other bed. _Fuck_. If he's in Dean's body, then it just stands to reason that his older brother could be the one that's running for his life away from him... in _his_ body.

“Dean?” he asked, striding closer and falling to his knees at the edge of the bed, bending down to look at the freaked out man who had stopped for half a second to just breath from the sprint. At seeing his hiding spot being exposed he ran away again with even more determination. Sam's eyes went wide again. “Dean! Stop!”

“Fuck you!” the guy shouted over his shoulder and kept on going.

Sam grunted in frustration. “It's _me_!” his hand swept forward and brushed against the man's side. It was still too dark, and the man too small, to see many details so he wasn't entirely sure it was his old body. How could he be so freaking _tiny_? The man was knocked off balance and cried out in renewed panic. Stumbling sideways for a few seconds before catching himself. Arms waving at his sides to keep his tentative balance on the ankle deep loops of carpet fibers. Eating up his feet with every frantic step.

The man cursed some more to himself, breathless but no less desperate for some kind of reserve strength to kick in and help him escape. “Gotta find Sam. Find him. Get him the hell out of this bizarro-world! Man he must be fucking _tiny_ if I'm really this small.”

Sam thought about what this all must be like for his older brother as he watched the man clear the vast distance under the bed. Transfixed on seeing something so small run like that. No wonder Dean was always worried for Sam's safety on the floor! And now, that's most likely Dean even though the guy is too small to make any details out. After all what kind of monster would shape shift into a Little in a human's room?

How scary this all must be to him? Some giant monster wearing his face is trying to capture him. But. Sam simply _can't_ let his brother leave like this. If it is Dean, he doesn't know the first thing about living in the walls but that wont stop him from getting to that opening that Sam found the night before. And if it _isn't_ Dean, then he _still_ needs to catch him anyway for some answers. No way is it coincidence that the weirdness started at same time that this mystery guy shows up. Either case, it's too risky to let him leave. Which, hell, while he's been coming up with some theories and plans, the tiny man is within two feet of that wall opening.

“Damn it!” He came out of his staring trance and jumped over the bed to land on the other side, putting his hands down to cushion his fall and the second his hip and legs hit the floor to help support his body, he thrust both hands forward and slammed down between the man and the wall, cutting off the guy's path as he stumbled to the ground again from the floor's shock wave. One huge hand going to block the wall entrance while the other pushed the guy away from it on instinct. The man tumbled and rolled away from the force of that shove and ducked his head down. Obviously going into defensive position, no doubt expecting to be squashed right after that huge shove.

That act of cowering down halted Sam's next impulse to snatch the guy up in a fist. The fingers were curled and ready to do just that, hovering over the man within inches overhead. The shadow of his hand spread over every one of the guys few inches and then some. Sam recoiled a bit, slowly.

The man shot his look up at his face and panted hard. The little chest heaving, mouth hanging wide open. Face flushed. Long hair fell in front of his eyes and he blinked at that fact. Lifting a hand to push the hair back slowly. Squinting in confusion as the fingers played with the longish brown hair. Then the focus came back to Sam's face who made up a good portion of the man's eyesight. Sam knew that face. Very well. And if he had any doubts before, he knew now. Dean was in his body, and just now realizing the fact that it wasn't the one he was born in.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” Dean shouted, bewildered as his hands gripped the curtain of brown colored bangs in his face, pulling them outwards to see them better. Then his attention went to his clothes, patting down the home made pants and gray shirt. “This isn't mine. What the f-? _What_?” quick breaths nearing hyperventilating.

His last bit of sanity snapping.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is for Nightmares06 wonderful alternate reality fanfic series called Brother's Apart that had been going on for years, and I've been following for the whole time. Amazing stories, and lots of time and effort has been put into it and all of its baby Au's. Making it the most Au'ed Au out there to my knowledge!  
> Every detail and story line so complete and addictive and well written, I highly recommend for everyone to read!  
> Go check it out!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/167201  
> This is for the contest Nightmares06 is having right now! Check it out on Tumblr and Deviantart and join the fun!
> 
> and PS, sorry I'm a sucker for cold opens. I like to jump right in and make people go wtf? right off the bat!  
> Pps there is cursing in this, and might have some slight horror later, I dunno. Depends on the comments and reviews I get. It's a wip.  
> Ppss this will be a bit more vanilla then my other fanfics (there I don't skimp on Rated R blood and gore, sex and violence.) This is my happy fic! If a little bit angsty at the start... None of that hard stuff here. No siree. (ok, maybe later, totally depends.)


	2. Change in Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's point of view.   
> Part of it is theoretical gore, no actual harm done.

Chapter Two:

Change in Perspective

 

 

 

Dean was having a hell of a weird dream. He was back at that shop they were investigating and looking around for anything that might be Hoo-doo-ey and coming up with damn near squat. Then that gorgeous lady owner comes over and suddenly music is playing in the background. The store fades to black around them. Free bird's lyrics coming out of nowhere and everywhere but not too loud.

_'-And this bird you cannot change, Lord knows I can't change.'_

She's coming over to him, dressed in a black lacy number and sauntering around him, eyes slowly blinking in his frame as he straightens up his posture to look more appealing. Winking at her for good measure.

_'Lord, help me, I can't cha-a-a-ange.'_

She lunges at him, kissing and groping. He's nearly knocked backwards from the force but soon gives as much as she does.

_'Lord I can't change. Wont you fly high free-bird? Yeah.'_

A bed appears beside them and they practically fall into its red satin sheets. Things escalating quickly. The sheets spin around the two of them as they kiss and touch each other, Dean wrestling with his clothes that wont come off with the music getting louder and louder. Getting frantic as they make out, hands tracing everywhere till he finds himself falling, grasping for the bed sheets to halt his fall. Its not so much physical as it feels everything else. _Falling_. _Spinning._

The girl being swallowed up by the satin sheets that turn into a fabric tornado, latching onto his legs and slithering up his body till he can't escape. Still falling.

Music practically screaming in his ear as he lands, head still spinning and hurting. The feeling of being tied up head to toe send his mind into all kinds of scenarios. Naughty ones at first then to the more frightening ones. Being tied down, hurt. Then, just as fast and loud and confusing as it had been, is now silence. The place turns pitch black and he feels the ground shake. It jolted him from his dream but the lingering effects of it swallow him up.

A voice from above mutters something and he hears his name in it. He strains to see anything in the dark. Soon, he starts to become aware that he had been in a dream, that he's waking up from it. The strange feelings don't go away but they get a little easier to consider. That rumbling in the ground is acting like someone's nudging him awake by shaking the bed.

He blinks his eyes open in the dark and they slowly start to see the room he's in. Large lines of black run from floor to ceiling, which is made up of big chunks of wood all pieced together. Maybe some kind of Art Deco thing. Usually these hotel rooms have stucco or popcorn ceilings. This one went for beige wood bits. Whatever. His bleary gaze went to the side and he frowned to himself. He thought he'd gotten a two bed hotel room...

Thum Thum th-thum. A scraping sound like a zipper ending with a louder shuffling one that almost sounds like a dump truck of fabric falling followed by a loud clattering of something big and heavy. Another thing that rattled as it fell somewhere far away. There was a pause where Dean was still trying to wake up and think clearer but there was this fog in his head. “Sammy?” he mumbled quietly, not willing to wake up his brother if it's nothing. No answer. Apparently it wasn't enough to bother his brother. Dean let his head fall back into the pillow and grunted at how hard it felt to him.

THUM THUM THUMP THUMP!

Trembling the surface beneath him. He's just awake enough by that rhythmic shake to be able to wriggle his way out of the sheets, loosening their tight grip on him. His head feels stuffed with cotton and his body feels so light. Everything keeps shaking.

“ **DEAN**?” An ear splitting roar broke through whatever he was thinking of. Startling him so bad from the noise and the fact that it was his name God (who was apparently real) was shouting. He fell right out of the bed. An instant headache slamming him from all sides. Making him feel like it's in a vice while simultaneously putting fuzzy edges to his consciousness. He curled inward just enough to protect himself... but from what he didn't know. He looked around for the danger but came up empty. No one else was there.

“Fucking shit! What was that?” he cussed, trying to free his legs from the sheets that were still partially twisted around his legs. He tries to distract himself from the continuing thumps made in the floor by figuring out first and foremost where he ended up, because he's sure as hell not in Kansas anymore.

The room he was in was dark and pretty sparse. Just a bed, desk and some kind of bag off the end of the bed. A metal pole was bent up and down with a sharp harpoon like end to it. He knew for a fact that it wasn't there when he went to sleep. He quickly got to a stand and pulled the thing around to see it better and gaped at it for a second. “No fuckin way...” he exclaimed, inspecting a three pronged fish hook apparently, that would fit better at a sporting supply store decoration instead of attached to a tan bag. The thing was big and sharp as fuck.

There was a very loud voice again, hard to ignore and unnerving at how it seemed to come from above. It just said, “ **What the**...” at something beyond his room.

The ground trembled again and his room shifted ever so slightly from one side to another. Tilting then settling. The desk had some large unevenly cut papers on top and long dark gray cylinders as thick as markers that had the edges worn down, rolling and shifting along with everything else in his room. One rolled off the desk only catching his attention for a split second.

His headache wasn't going away and it made his thoughts fuzzy and swimming. His eyesight may have cleared but that didn't clear up much. He straightened up when one of the walls to the near empty room actually _moved._ It moved by itself. Sounds of it scraping along the wooden floor were felt in his socked feet as he tried to keep his ground. He turned to the bed quickly and only had a second to see that it looked so wrong for a regular hotel room. Figuring that he must not have paid all that much attention last night when he fell into bed, he threw the stiff pillow off to the ground and grabbed a firm hold of the knife underneath without really looking at it. At least a weapon was there which he clutched onto.

The wall in front of him was moving away from him at an angle and let in a bit more light into his space. It had letters bigger then his arm all along the front and it took a second to read them, “The Fake Cities?” but it was gone before he could confirm that it was in fact, an eerily similar copy of one of Sam's books, but the size of a damned _wall_. The new light helped him read the other wall's words, “The Cat's Journal... _no fucking way._..” Sam's other book that they'd borrowed from Bobby's library about feline shapeshifters. The space beyond was dim but he found that he could see just about everything beyond but his head was still coming to terms with waking up in this strange place. It looked like his room was at the end of a long canyon.

His attention was snapped up into the absolutely largest face he'd ever seen, quickly dropping down from the sky beyond to stare at him with eyes bigger then his head. A sharp jolt going up his spine and centering around his neck the instant those eyes locked onto him. The lingering sense of fingers grazing his neck remained as those huge green eyes went from his head to toe and back again. Taking only a split second to do so since the thing was simply humongous. Dean felt himself move back on instinct. Jerky movements at first until his heel contacted the discarded pillow and he fell backwards onto his ass. Dean knew that Hunters on their backs were dead meat so he continued to scramble backwards until he hit a solid cold wall. Freezing in place as those huge green eyes were widening even further. Black pupils dilating in interest.

He can't really be blamed for his reaction to finding out that giants were, in fact, real.

He _screamed_.

Apparently. The giant wasn't prepared for their meeting either since it fell backwards and retreated from his room. Dark shapes loomed up beyond but his view was blocked by the rooms walls. Light coming into the space beyond and showing the giant was panting for a few seconds before bellowing out, “ **What the fuck?** ” Then the sounds of the giants breaths coming up short, like it was hyperventilating. Which, well, that was odd as hell by itself. Clearly it had the upper hand here but it was just as freaked as Dean was.

Dean stared back without moving much as his heart tried to get back into a regular rhythm. Giants weren't real. They shouldn't exist. But trust Dean's luck to find the first one ever and be trapped by it before breakfast. He turned to the side and saw the blank back wall and beat his fist against it, looking for a hollow space beyond but hearing nothing. It's like the wall was two feet thick everywhere he checked. Was he in a bunker? The image painted on the wall looked like wood grain. “Shit, is this supposed to be redwood?” It definitely sounded like real wood, but the piece was far too large to be from a single tree and he'd never heard of anyone making a wall without a seam in it. Plywood sheets don't come in 30 foot sections! There's no plaster here to smooth it out... just this wallpaper? Not wallpaper... what is this? His hands graze by everywhere, searching for some kind of give in it. Somewhere he can kick or cut to get out of here that doesn't involve getting closer to the freaking giant.

There should be some kind of crack where the boards came together. It was one solid smooth surface that was at least several feet thick. If this is a bunker why use wood? It's flammable. Why not concrete?

“Shit.” Dean can't break through if he can't even find an edge or weak spot. A quick look outwards showed the giant still hadn't moved and now that he's really looking, and the thing isn't so close and loud, the damned thing _looks just like him_. Dean took a step out from the back wall, creeping closer to get a better look. The space the giant occupied was too huge to really comprehend so his mind shut it out in favor of focusing on the biggest threat in front of him.

The monster was trying to look just like him. Why? To gain his trust? To lure him out into the open? To lure Sam out? Dean shot looks all around, quickly scanning the space but finding no little brother anywhere. Relieved that Sam's not here.

Dean took a few steps forward, trying not to seem as scared as he really was. Standing his ground and mustering up some courage to finally address the thing.

He inhaled deeply to talk loud enough to it. Hoping that if there was a big 'G' God above, that this scary giant _isn't_ like all the other giants in fairy-tale stories. That God will help him _not die_ before he's got a few answers first.

“What's going on-?” He shouted up, realizing that something was wrong with his voice but chalked it up to nerves and cleared his throat, planting his feet firmly on the ground and shouted at it again. Admittedly, he didn't feel at all sure of this but tried to sound the part, “Why did you steal my face?” That was all he could think to ask. Sure that the giant wouldn't answer the hard hitting questions just yet. Such as, 'Are you going to eat me?' which Dean really didn't want to know if the answer was yes. If that would put the idea in the giants head in the first place.

The thing frowned at him and tried to console him but the voice that was coming out of its mouth was definitely his own and too loud to ignore. Dean hated flinching at every move it made but that was impossible to stop. Dean knew not to trust the monster when it said it wont hurt him but when it turned it into an accusation a second later was a little surprising. The features in the massive face coupled with it leaning forward from over there renewed his fear. Dean heard the words turn hard and became a little incensed at the idea that he was guilty of the stolen face the giant was using to scowl at him. “ **I'm not gonna hurt you... unless you're the one that did this? Are you responsible for this?** ” that deafening tone going deadly in a heartbeat.

“Think again, Godzilla! _You_ are the one that stole _my_ face! You tell me!” Dean quickly picked up the knife again and held it out after shouting back. Demanding answers because this is just too weird and he doesn't like being accused of things that he clearly didn't do. Having a monster blame him for things to fabricate in it's mind a justifiable reason to hurt him. Wouldn't be the first time. As a Hunter he'd been blamed for things other Hunters or humans had done for years. The monster taking it out him instead.

After talking back, the monster actually paused in it's false accusations to mess with his face and hair. Like it's surprised at what it found. Ok, so apparently it didn't bother to do that sooner, like say, right after it stole his likeness. But, the fact that it was _this_ confused was doubly confusing. It might not be able to control itself. Great. There were any number of things it could do or had done. Dean looked up and around outside of the box like room he was in, noticing the bag again. Sam's bag. “Fuck.” he muttered. Where _was_ he? If his bag's this big, did he get back to normal as well?

Dean took a few steps closer, clearing his throat. He had to know. “Just please. You can do whatever you want with me Gigantor. Just tell me that you'll leave my family alone.” because there was no way in hell that he'd let his brother go down with him. The giant might already have him somewhere, leaving his bag behind.

“ **Your family**.” The giant sat upright a bit. That tingle on Dean's neck just wouldn't go away.

“Yeah. A little dude, was about four inches tall...” Dean looked down again. He didn't have any pictures of his brother on hand since this room didn't have his cell phone, or anything of his in it. The bag will have to do. “Had this bag with him everywhere.” lifting it up in case the giant couldn't tell what he was referring too.

It appears that was the exact wrong thing to do as the monster lunged forward so fast that it made Dean startle and stumble backwards. Avoiding the crashing body that slammed into the ground in front of him. Landing on elbows and knees that made the very ground jump under Dean's feet. Dean's first impulse was to throw the thing that had the giants attention away from himself and run the other direction like he'd seen in Jurassic Park when the guys were trying to distract the T-Rex with a flare, but saw that there was no escape out of the room. The giant took up nearly all of the fourth wall. Dean scrambled backwards behind the bed, shoving it away from the wall to block the oncoming monster with anything he had. Knowing it wouldn't stop it but he had to try at slow it down at least.

It looked down at the bag and Dean felt the tingle diminished slightly once the eyes were off of him. It inspected the bag with his huge fingers, fumbling with it and Dean imagined that he could be handled just as recklessly. His body mangled if the giant reached in. Looking up, he cursed himself for giving up Sam's bag so readily. Like he'd somehow thrown his brother under the bus with the reaction.

The giant held the bag up and practically snarled at him. “ **This. Is** _ **mine**_ **.** ”

That was the last straw. He heard himself shout right back at the monster. A stupid decision that he couldn't find it in him to stop. “It's not! It belongs to my brother! Did you do something to him? You can't just claim it as yours! Give it back!”

The monster then mumbled quieter, sparing Dean's ears, “Your brother?” while frowning. It started to rub at its hands for a second and looked lost all over again. Putting Sam's bag somewhere above Dean's room. The wooden thunk heard far above. It surprised Dean yet again by getting to its feet and stomping away from his room like it had somewhere to be all of the sudden. The tingle in his neck vanished entirely but he paid it little mind. He was free. The giant was gone for the moment. A moment he wasn't going to waste. Knife still in hand, Dean ran to the edge of the room and looked down. Those two huge walls that looked like books suddenly looked like... books. Real books. The light in the space beyond illuminating a simply horrifying sight. He never would have recognized it if he hadn't been traveling with Sam for so long. He turned his head to the side and it all clicked into place.

A memory of laying on the floor some time ago, head tilted to the side to watch Sam move around, trying to picture how his pint sized brother sees the world. How high ceilings looked up there, but his mind telling him that he's just laying down and not standing and looking up. How furniture could loom and seem to be immovable but knowing that he could easily push anything in it around. Everything in that space is built for his size.

Now? Those two monoliths off to each side came into view first and he saw the bedspreads drape down. Not a canyon. The underside of the beds here looked different then other hotel beds. These had old fashioned wood beams going parallel instead of a metal frame and box spring. There was a table and chairs behind where the monster had landed with one of the chairs on its side. One of the crashs he heard. He could just barely see one of the feet for the dresser to the right of his room that extended towards the bathroom wall where the monster went. He jumped down from his room and swallowed thickly before looking straight up. Nausea already hitting him. The nightstand. He was in Sam's nightstand room.

That wasn't a giant at all. It was human sized and he's the one that's tiny. His world spun around him and he steadied a hand on one of the books. Vision swimming. He could hear the thing in the bathroom and breathed through his panic. Dean was determined not to get caught in the nightstand again so he tried to picture the room in his minds eye. Remembering that one opening Sam found when they arrived yesterday. An entrance into the wall and away from this thing. He didn't have anything useful besides the knife so that will have to do.

“Ok.” He muttered to himself and saw the spot where the hole must be. Partially blocked by a pillow that was on the floor. It was fairly close to the bathroom so he might have to find another entrance. But, that could take too long. He had to move now. He bolted towards the bed for cover. The thing will come back at any moment and so he had no time to loose. The ground tried eating his feet with every leaping step he took to get out of view of the bathroom's entrance.

He finally made it under the bed and stopped to breath. The closer ceiling of the underside of the bed felt better then the ceiling of the hotel room that yawned above him too far. Feeling too exposed with that monster on the loose.

Though he ran for hundreds of feet, he wasn't fast enough. Even with the monster facing the mirror, he must have seen him in the reflection.

Dean startled when he heard his name being called. A spike of fear running down his spine as he watched in mute horror that it was stomping around the bed to the space between, cutting off his path to the nightstand. Fear of the thing getting pissed that he left his spot. Like he was supposed to sit there and wait for the monster to come back. Cursing himself out for not going for _underneath_ the nightstand instead of the bed. The space would have hidden him better then this as the giant fell to his knees. A sound like no other keeping him rooted to the spot. Shuffling fabric signaling that it was leaning over to find him. Grab him. _Kill him_. He looked over his shoulder at the thump of a hand twice as long as he was tall landing on the ground and his face on the monster tilting sideways and upside down at him.

Expression unreadable since he could only see the eyes which went from surprised to determined. Brows lowering. Oh no. Dean faced forward again. He had no choice. He has to make a break for that opening or die here right now. He _ran_.

“ **Dean! Stop!** ” The voice shouted. Hurting his ears from the nearness of those vocal chords and making him stumble but thankfully recover.

Dean shouted an obscenity over his shoulder which was probably unwise but he had to say something to release some anger so he could put all his focus on running. He heard it grunt in frustration then was nearly knocked off his feet by something shoving his whole body to the side. He panicked, stumbling sideways before catching himself. If he falls he dies. No questions or second chances. He pushed himself harder. He's not just trying to save his own hide, he needs to find out what happened to Sam. The thing wasn't talking, so he had to figure it out on his own. He came back out from under the other side of the bed. A wide expanse of floor between the bed and the wall. The openness of it like a weight over his head.

As he ran full out, he came up with a plan on the fly. Eyes on the thin crack in the wallpaper that Sam showed him for the entrance into the walls. “Gotta find Sam. Find him. Get him the hell out of this bizarro-world! Man he must be fucking _tiny_ if I'm really this small.” if something shrank Dean, it could mean that his brother had shrunk too. Sam never goes anywhere without his satchel and hook. As good as dead without his supplies. Dean might be too if he's caught and then what will happen? He didn't see or hear Sam anywhere in the nightstand. And Sam had plenty of opportunities to get his attention in there. Dean hoped that he didn't just abandon his brother to that giant... he'd be the size of a grain of rice to that thing! Dean shook his head, Sam wasn't there. He's somewhere else. Maybe he's waiting for Dean inside the walls. It's possible that they're just separated by that wall. The monster didn't seem to know what happened to his brother or knew he had one until Dean tried to make a deal with it. Stupid mistake number 20. “Fuck.” He cursed to himself again. Wondering why the monster wasn't giving chase... was it toying with him? Don't think, just run.

He saw that he was just a hundred feet from the entrance. His lungs burning from the exertion but a grin still spread on his face. He's almost there! Fifty feet! Twenty!

Suddenly, the giant cursed behind him and he heard a whining creak behind him, loud thumps and a shadow eclipse the light from above. He shot his head up to see that the monster was actually airborne! A mountain of flesh crashing down beyond him. Its hands slamming down first and then hips that caused the earth to quake. His feet left the ground at the same time it landed, stumbling and tripping to stay upright when the thing thrust both hands forward of itself, blocking the entrance with one hand and the other was launching itself towards Dean with a speed that was incomprehensible. A huge inescapable hand and forearm going a hundred miles per hour. He had just enough time to protect his head from the blow that sent his body flying away from the wall. Tumbling along the ground as his body rolled away from the massive impact. He eventually stopped, hurting all over from the initial blow, but also from the tumble. At least living the life of a Hunter made him used to this, to an extent. That was like nothing he'd been through before. Getting hit like that... like he was nothing. A bug that was swatted.

He's dead. He's going to die. It's all over. Dean ducked his head down and covered it up with both arms. Curling into himself as the huge hand was instantly lifted overhead and fingers curled downwards like a cage. Dean let out a whimper. He can never survive this. Sam will loose his brother. Sam needed a chance to survive, but now he might not get one since Sam'll be on his own. He needed Dean, and his older brother failed him.

The shadow lingered over Dean's head. Dean pried his eyes open to see it covering all of his body. The fucker is probably savoring his fear in its victim. Dean saw the fingers shadow twitch above. Taunting him before the moment they slam down and crush him into the carpet. Morbid thoughts of how his organs and bones would smear into the thick fabric ropes that made up this dirty carpet. A stain. His whole crushed and mutilated body would be just another stain here. Forever. There's no way that cleaning the spot with a rag would get rid of all of his body. There might be a finger or rib caught in the fibers even if they got the blood and guts out with soapy water. Fuck. A whole life reduced to a pulpy lump of flesh that wouldn't even amount to anything significant. Someone would just think he'd been a mouse someone stomped on. _Glad_ he's dead. Maybe housekeeping will just move the dresser over to cover up the spot instead of clean it. He'll be forgotten. Bobby wouldn't even know what happened. Why would he look for Dean's corpse in the fibers of a random patch of carpet? Wont even get a Hunter's funeral.

Fuck. What happened to _Sam_? Dean prayed Sam was safe. “Goodbye, Pint size.” Dean whispered too quietly for anyone to hear.

The shadow retreated slowly. Dean thought it was lifting back to be replaced by a foot. The thing doesn't want its hands getting dirty with his remains. His traitorous curiosity made him look up. His chest continued to heave air in and out. The monster looked upset. Maybe it wanted Dean to run some more... maybe it changed it's mind about killing him quickly. Deciding to play with him first. Dean felt hair fall into his eyes as his whole body moved with his breaths. He brushed it away but paused...

He had seen a lot of things today, but this is the first time something simple took his attention away from terror. He had bangs... long brown bangs that were hanging down in front of his eyes. He pulled at them outwards to see it clearer. Latching onto this small oddity so he wouldn't have to think about the fact he was still within the giant's reach. Its hand still raised but no longer above.

His sanity is stretching too thin. Too much for him to handle all at once. Dean's fingers clutched his longish brown hair, gripping it tightly as he shouted, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” What kind of monster makes people _grow hair?_

The monster's stolen green eyes looked sympathetically at him. Taking up his attention before it was gone again when the tingling in his neck reminded him that that's not normal. One thing at a time.

His hands fell from his head to his shirt, gripping it in tight fists. The feel of it was wrong too. “This isn't mine. What the f-? _What?_ ” The clothes weren't his either. His breathing became more rapid again. The giant just stared down at him. Frown deepening.

“ _What's going on?!_ ” Dean shouted, pulling at his longish brown hair and clothes like the thin threads had answers hidden within. They were all clearly hand made now that he's really looking. The simple shirt and pants didn't resemble anything like his own clothes, and just that _idea_ that someone stripped him down and putting these on him instead while he slept, was just adding to the panic. The people that kidnapped Sam replaced his clothes with dolls clothes. Did this giant monster think he's a pet now? A belonging?

Sam took some pity on him. He leaned forward slightly and tried to keep his voice calm, “Shhhh. It's ok, Dean.”

As if he had been forgotten for a moment there, Dean found the hilt of the knife and pulled it out in a flash again as he waved it in front of himself. “Stay back!” He warned, but it sounded more like a plea, as he scooted back.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. Just his very presence was making his brother panicky, so he scooted back a little bit himself. To give the poor guy some space. He raised up his hands to show that he wasn't going to attack again, but just seeing such huge movements from hands that could crush Dean's Impala made him wince back some more. Knife waving and slashing the air blindly in-between them. Gasping breaths heard below.

“Sorry, bad move.” Sam said sheepishly and curled his fingers down, seeing the new look of fear on the other's face. “Not 'bad move' on your part! You didn't tick me off!” Sam hastily assured. Waving his open hands again before putting them down to the floor. Glancing at the wall entrance again. Thinking about blocking it with something heavy so he didn't have to worry about guarding it anymore. “I just. I suck at this. Sorry.” he sighed a bit. Frowning when Dean started to shuffle back a little more, getting to his knees so he'd be able to get to his feet faster then from his sitting position. Clearly trying to wait out the attention on him so he could make a break for it the second the 'giant's' attention went away.

“I swear, Dean. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm your brother. _Sam_.” One hand placing over his chest.

“You're a damned liar.” Dean spat out but regretted it the instant it was out. Looking like he was worried about what kind of punishment will follow that accusation. It hurt to see.

Sam sighed. This was going nowhere. So long as Dean had sight of that exit into the walls, he wasn't going to listen to anything he had to say. Sam reached forward with his hand and before Dean could recoil it, he pinched the knife blade between two fingers. Dean pulled down with all his might and managed to cut into one of the finger pads before it was inexorably pulled from his grasp. He held on so tightly to the handle that he was pulled up into a stand, both hands clutching to the handle with a desperate white knuckled grip, wiggling his whole body in vain, trying to dislodge it again. Holding on a few more seconds before his strength was sapped. But his hands slipped off when he was literally dangling from it. Dean landed on his feet, stumbling slightly in the deep carpet again. Taking several steps back. A string of new curses coming out silently as if Sam couldn't hear him from this close.

Sam frowned down at his brother knowing what he would look like to the smaller Winchester. He then glanced downwards at himself to asses what he actually does look like, and noticed that he was wearing a pocket-less shirt and was still in sleep pants. He slipped the tiny knife into the pants pocket without really thinking about it. It did belong to him after all. But he was more focused on Dean who was also in his sleep clothes. Not exactly making a great impression. It was hard taking anyone seriously when half dressed. He figured Dean would probably feel better in some proper clothes as well. Looking over the nearest bed towards the nightstand where he'd stashed his clothes while they stayed here, he figured Dean would be more comfortable fully clothed, with more then one layer protecting against the elements. He turned his head back down to Dean and found the little guy making yet _another_ run for it. Breaking Sam's heart all over again for what he has to do. There was no reasoning with him if Dean was too scared to just _talk_. Sam debated with himself on just reaching forward and grabbing his brother. Putting him somewhere where he couldn't get down by himself. Forcing Dean to sit still for a damned minute and listen to reason. It wouldn't be like trapping him forever, just till he can explain himself and his intentions.

Sam sighed heavily and stood up for just a moment to reach for the full box of tissues that was on the dresser nearby, all the while looking down at the ground, tracking Dean's movements. It looked like Dean didn't really have a set plan besides 'run away'. So Sam had a moment to grab a handful of tissues to jam inside the hole, filling it to the brim and making sure that Dean couldn't just pull them out again on his own. Then put the box in front of the hole next. The box was too heavy for him to move when he was only 4 inches tall, so it should be a good blockade. Sam didn't remember seeing any other ways in or out of that particular room so it must not have been a favorite of the little people that had lived here years ago.

He leaned over a bit, noting that Dean was now rounding the nightstand, stumbling even more now that he's wiping himself out from running the equivalent of several football fields before breakfast. Sam sat there. Leaning up against the wall, folding his legs in a bit. Debating if he should just wait out Dean's energy or go hunting him down again to try and explain. He wasn't exactly sure what happened himself. How they ended up like this. He lifted up his right hand and brought it to his face, looking hard at the small wrinkles and scars. He knew this hand better then his own because he'd spent a great deal of time riding around in it. The fingerprint lines were deep enough he had been able to sink his fingers inbetween the dips and whorls. He flexed his hand a bit. Amazed at the ability now to control that all-powerful hand that was also capable of such care and precision when dealing with the smaller brother. In his control, it just seemed like a club, lacking finesse and care.

His left hand coming up and poking at his right palm, the fingers, detecting how the thick callouses on the hand made it only register a small amount of pressure. His own body's hands had callouses too, but they were from wire climbing and years of rough living inside the motel's walls. He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Not spotting Dean anywhere but unconcerned at the moment. Sam felt like it was important now that Dean feels at least a little safe from the 'Godzilla' in the room. Give them both a breather to just, process. Such a drastic change of scenery for Dean... at least Sam had spent his childhood the size of a human. Dean must be having a hell of a time now.

“Dean?” He said to the room, not really expecting an answer, but hoping nonetheless. “I just want to talk, man. I know what you must be going through. And I just want to say, that I swear you wont be hurt by me.”

A tiny scoff came from the other side of the room. Barely audible. Even harder to pinpoint it's location.

This is going to be a long day.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and update often, but ya know... life.  
> Any suggestions for later on?


	3. Small Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk to him.

Chapter Three:

Small Steps

 

 

 

After not hearing anything more from his shrunken brother, Sam sighed loudly in defeat. He felt like a record on repeat but he'd say it as many times as necessary to get it into Dean's head. “Dean. I will never hurt you. Just... let me know you're fine.” he waited, heard nothing.

“I feel I should warn you, you're not used to the regular dangers of being that small. I mean, a few things I told you about, but, it's not exactly the same as _living_ through them. I just, I don't want you getting hurt over something that you used to take for granted being this big.” Sam stretched his back out a bit, hearing the floor creak under the shifting weight and being a little surprised at that. He hadn't been big enough to make that kind of disturbance in the floors for the past 14 years. Too light to even move a paperweight.

Now it was like the whole room was bending to his impressive mass. If he wanted to, he could punch through any one of these walls. Walls that were nigh unbreakable to his kind unless the Littles had cut away at it over time, splinter by splinter, in total silence and darkness, for their doors and escape tunnels. He could do a months worth of work in _one_ punch. Since they didn't have that kind of strength, they usually just took over a hole that a mouse or rat had already made.

Sam was strong enough now he could move a freaking bed. The nightstand, dresser, hell, he could take a rock that was as big as his old room and smash the tub and sink too. Destroying everything in sight without breaking a sweat. His fingers flexed. A thrum of power and possibilities was making his head a little dizzy so he took several breaths, calming that little voice in his head to Hulk-smash stuff just because he _could_. It was terrifying how much he wanted to do it. Just a little bit. One hole in the wall, just one, behind the dresser. Maybe even help out the resident population with making a secondary exit to this room. But, of course, after he got Dean to talk to him. Sam's imagination at how that conversation would go with him getting ready to attack a harmless wall for no reason besides, 'cause I can'. Sure, earn Dean's trust and dash it all with some damage. Bravo. Sam lightly punched the floor instead, hearing the hollow thunk. The urge to show off his new strength was finally dwindling. He might have to do it later, but not when Dean's around to take it the wrong way.

For every thing he could do now, Dean was that much more vulnerable. Dean was too small to do much of anything to the things in the room. Even less then what Sam could do because Dean was never a good climber. He probably couldn't even scale a single piece of tall furniture. Stuck to the floor and whatever was resting on it like his bag or the boots close to the door. Sam realized that narrowed down Dean's potential hiding places by tenfold. He figured he only needed one guess where Dean was holing up. The bag was somewhat close to Sam so Dean wouldn't go for it. The overturned chair would only block from one direction. Dresser was a possibility but Sam leaned over and confirmed there were no people under it, or the beds.

Sam grimaced a little, his gaze settling on the most likely option left. It must smell awful in those boots. After a moments consideration, a small snicker left his mouth at the thought. His older brother had no one else to blame but himself for the foot odor. How many times did Sam beg him to just buy new boots?

Sam decided to spare Dean the injustice of making him stay in the boots for much longer. It would be like noxious fumes to someone his size. He got to his knees and crawled slowly over to the boots. Hearing each thump echo in the room no matter how light he meant to be. Chastising himself for being so clumsy but also reminding himself that he just can't help it. Humans were big and had a lot of weight to move around. And, it was next to impossible to sneak up on a Little when the very floor quakes and moves. He neared the boots and frowned down at them. Thinking about that fairy tale story about the little old lady that lived in a shoe. Pretty sure Dean wouldn't appreciate the quip, he stayed silent for a second as he peered down at the dirty boots.

“I uh, um...” not exactly sure what to say now that he's over there. “I know you're in the boots. You can come out now.”

If Dean thought he could wait out Sam, he obviously didn't know how patient his brother could be. Sam shifted around and leaned up against the door to the hotel room, next to the boots, and folded his legs up Indian style so he wouldn't appear to be lording over his size. Making himself as small as possible even though it wouldn't help much. He looked out at the room for a moment, then up at the curtains above for a second before cursing under his breath for how bright it was outside and closing them a bit more firmly . Settling again with his fingers starting to drum on a knee. Going for nonchalance. Not really looking at the, quite frankly, smelly boots. More like, keeping his brother company. Sam decided to talk some more. Hope that his brother would just come out on his own, when Sam's stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet space.

A small voice from inside the left boot said, “The fuck was that?” to himself before a slight gasp escaped him for making a sound.

“Sorry.” Sam said sheepishly. “I'm hungry.”

“Fuuuu-uck.” the curse was stretched for all it was worth. “You're gonna fee-fi-fo-fum my ass aren't you.” Dean's words came out tinged with fear even as he was aiming for cocky.

“No. I prefer my meals to smell less rancid.” Sam chuckled. Catching himself for the bad joke. “Don't worry, I'm not a cannibal.”

“You're not human so it wouldn't be considered cannibalism.” Dean pointed out but kicked himself. “Not that you have to kill me to find out if you like the taste of human.”

Sam brought his hand up to rub at his temples. “Dean. I'm not going to eat my brother.” Sam grumbled. “Stop _insulting_ me like that.”

Dean punched his leg. Great, he pissed off the monster. “I – I just mean... fuck.” he muttered, shifting position again. Sitting bowed forward with his back against the toe of his own boot was far from comfortable. And the giant was right. It was a stupid idea to hide in here. But he'd be damned to admit that, and just leave on his own. This is the only kind of cover he's got, even if he just freaking _trapped_ himself. This monster sure loved to talk as if they're related. “I'm sure you've got a reason to – to say that. You're probably some kind of Shapeshifter or Witch or Revenant that stole my face but got the names and memories wrong. I don't know how or why you made me look like my brother. Some game you must play with your victims.” Dean with Sam's voice went from stating the observations loud enough for the giant to hear, but turning into a thoughtful mumble. The creature might not like being psychoanalyzed by its victim.

This was getting Dean nowhere, so he gathered up what courage he could muster to confront the giant. He decided, 'hell with it', and crept forward, noting that he really did need new boots because his feet had worn through several spots in the padding, right down to the rubber insides. Ignoring that, he stood up straight once he was able, and looked up at the entrance to the boot at the giant's elbow above. Apparently he was heard shuffling down there because the arm moved and was replaced with a set of green eyes looking straight down at him. Making Dean shudder. It wasn't the first monster to share his likeness, but he never had seen his own face in such detail before. Now knowing that this is what Sam sees on a regular basis was a little humbling. How his younger brother could stand up to this... this thing. Barely relate-able even if it looked just like him. How could someone talk to a person so humongous? As equals??

Dean put those thoughts aside. He'll talk to Sam about it later if he finds... _when_ he finds him. Now, he just has to get some information.

He folded his arms and said upwards what he planned to say, after that, it was up to the giant. Seeing if it would change its story. That's how you catch someone in a lie. Ask similar but different questions and see if they still line up after awhile. Problem was, is that Shifters tended to be linked to the minds of those they're mimicking. So yes or no questions usually wouldn't work. Dean had to hit hard. “You say you're Sam? Well, my brother would _never trap me like this_.”

It hurt Sam something awful to hear it. Upset with himself, that he's doing such a crappy job handling this and explaining himself. Pushing it aside for the moment he had to concentrate on whats happening now. Dean's actually talking. Now he had to get the little guy to listen and respond. “Dean, _I'm_ not the one that did this to us. I _am_ your brother, whether you can see it or not.” he put his hand over his heart to swear it under oath. Unsure how much he could see down in there. “I want to say, that I am _very_ sorry how I reacted at first. I don't have all the answers yet.”

Dean stared upwards still. Challenging.

Sam took that as invitation to keep going. “And trust me. I KNOW what it's like being your size. You're in my body.” Sam sighed yet again. Closing his eyes and putting his hands to his face, holding back a few surprise tears of stress. “This isn't easy for me either, you know.” His voice came out quieter and more watery then he intended, but didn't care. He sniffed a bit, taking huge breaths to calm himself while facing away. Wishing he still had his bangs to hide his eyes behind. “I'm learning what to do and not to. I've never been on this end before, but I'm trying...” he couldn't finish the sentence, needing to take a few more deep breaths away from Dean. Hating how weak he looks.

Dean slowly unfolded his arms. The tone bringing him out of his denial a bit. Trying to read the expression behind the hands that came up to cup around the mouth, and then brush fingers through his hair in a self soothing gesture that people under stress often do. Dean noticed that the giant's fingers kept going as if it was used to having longer hair then the spikes on his head. He knew that sometimes monsters will try and get Hunters to sympathize, let their guard down. But the giant already had him cornered, why would he need him to believe his story on top of it?

Sam went on, as if the floodgates opened. “I can't do this, Dean. I never wanted to trap you. Make you feel helpless. You're my brother and you're supposed to be this big – _big_ – thing. This force of nature itself. And now I'm in your place. And – and I feel so _small_ in it. I feel like yeah, sure I'm back to being big again. Whooptifreakingdo. I don't know the first thing about being human!” Wiping a hand across his face. “And now you're small and I can't even make you feel protected. All I've done so far is to freak you out and make you feel like you're weak and alone and scared, and I never wanted that! I wasn't with _you_ being the big one! You always trusted me to have your back and now that I'm able to do what you did, I don't think I can even have _yours_! Damn. That doesn't make much sense.” he huffed a cheerless laugh.

He looked down at the boot and saw Dean wasn't looking at him, but leaping up, trying to catch the top edge to climb out but finding it much harder to leave the boot then it had been to get in. Sam took pity on his plight and hovered his hand over the top, readying it to dive in and help Dean out.

Dean looked up and flinched right back into the toe of the boot. Sam bit his lip, “I'm sorry. I swear. I swear, Dean, I wasn't going to grab you. I just wanted to, to help. You don't have the climbing gear...” Sam trailed off and remembered his satchel with his hook and line. “It's on the nightstand. Be right back.” and pushed himself from the wall to a stand. Watching as the boots shrank before his eyes when he stood up. The whole room looked so small to him. Old memories of being a human trying to come forward and remind him that this view should be normal. However, no matter how many times he took it all in, it was still jarring and so very _not normal_.

Sam leaned over the bed and picked up his minuscule bag in one hand, trying to be gentle with it since it still had everything that was most precious to him, sans knife, which was... shit. Where did he put it. The knife was so microscopic to him now. He panicked for a second trying to remember where he'd placed it. “Pocket!” he said happily and shoved his hand inside the pajama bottom and felt around for it. Heart picking up speed a bit that he'd lost it after all, or it had cut its own hole in the pocket and fallen out somewhere, until he felt it jab into his forefinger. Knowing that he couldn't just pinch it again without risk of breaking the blade, he bit his lower lip and pushed the blade in a bit further into his finger, lifting it out and seeing it stand up out of his skin. Not the most ideal way of retrieving it but at least it didn't fall down or break. He gingerly pulled it out like a large splinter and saw the tiny bit of blood bead out of the hole. Rubbing his thumb against it to itch at the tingle. He noticed the other cut that Dean made in his thumb when he wrestled for it with everything he had. Already the thin cut was closed up with the dried blood sealing it shut again. Impressed with himself how sharp such a small thing really was despite his own best efforts not to cut himself with it. He knew that if Dean had a better warning what Sam was going to do, that Dean could have cut clean through the veins in his wrist with that blade. But he'd surprised him and grabbed the knife before it was wielded properly.

He didn't dare put the knife down again for fear of loosing it so he just carried it in one hand and the bag in the other to the boot and peered in again. Seeing Dean sitting at the heel of it, legs bent and his chin resting on his knees. Hugging himself but not looking too freaked out. Like he's trying to cope with it all. Figure things out for himself. He felt the tremors in the ground and the warm breeze enter his area and looked up, gasping a little at the sight of the face eclipsing the boot's hole.

Sam lowered his voice a little, going for a calm soothing tone and hoping it didn't come out as patronizing. “I'm going to send some stuff down to you, you can use any tool, but I just ask that you uh, be very careful with the stuff. Please don't break anything. It took me a long time to make some of those tools and it would be a pain to replace them.” He started to lower his bag down but hesitated, jerking it back up when he remembered one item in particular, worrying his lip again with his teeth, debating with himself if he could try and open the bag just to remove one thing but deciding against it. “My journal is in there too, so I trust that you be careful with that and, uh, don't read it.” his eyebrows lowered sternly, making his brother lean back more from intimidation. Sam forced his expression to soften at that. Lingering traces of frustration in his voice, but never at Dean, just at his own inability to get his side across. “It's not like I'm going to hurt you for it, dammit, I just don't want you to read it. Out of respect for my privacy. And I promise not to rifle through your things that you want to keep private.” His eyes went to the bag of upended things. “I uh, did dump out your bag... but that was from my initial freak out. I wasn't prying, I swear. I just didn't believe that this was all real.” The hand holding the bag pulled at his shirt and wiggled it, referring to his soul or mind in Dean's body. “I still can't believe we swapped bodies man.” Giving his tiny big brother a self deprecating smile.

Sam looked away towards the bathroom again, as if he could see the mirror from there. “Swapped bodies. Turning into the big brother and it only took me 2.5 seconds before I screwed it up.” Frowning at himself before remembering what he had in his hands. “So, yeah. Here's that.” Lowering the bag down a bit into the boot first, feeling Dean tug it out of his fingers when it was close enough and then pulled his hand out and replaced it with the one holding his knife. “So you can protect yourself. From mice, rats, or uh, _me_.” he half shrugged. He forgot which end of the knife he was holding so he just lowered his fingers as low as possible and dropped it instead of risking Dean cutting up his hands trying to grab the blade part of it. Sam hoped this show of trust would be putting his money where his mouth is. Actions always spoke louder to Dean then words. The knife and bag is what he could do for now.

Dean stood back against the inner wall of the boot, looking up at the retreating hand again. The whole hand couldn't really fit inside so Dean was grateful it was just the fingers. He'd ducked down as far as he could go anyway. Not wanting to touch it any more then he absolutely had to. The knife had landed at his feet. Bloody. Curiosity all over his face at the slight turn of events. “You're really giving me the knife back.” Dean stated almost to himself. Picking up the knife and looking it over. Save for this morning, he hadn't held it properly in 14 years. Admiring the workmanship he put into it back when he was just a dumb kid. He still had a distrusting tone to his next statement. “What's to stop me from using it on you?”

Sam shrugged. “Nothing. I wont do a thing. Stab me till your arms get tired. Then rest up and stab me some more. I deserve it.” and faced the beds again. Funny thing was, is he was pretty serious about that offer. His guilt making his headache hurt worse and he hoped that some retribution would help him feel like they were 'even.'

The younger brother felt like he really did deserve it, scaring Dean all morning. Running through all the things that happened just that morning. His stomach growled at him again, distracting him from the dark thoughts. He nearly asked Dean for the time, but remembered that he can check it for himself now. Looking over at the alarm clock. Already past noon. Dean must be starving too but his stomach growls would probably be too quiet to hear from way up here. “You hungry? I am. Uh, did we have any leftovers from yesterday?” He looked down into the boot at Dean who gaped at him. He could imagine how that must look to the man. A giant asking someone stuck in a shoe to check and see if there's food in the mini fridge. Or maybe thinking that the monster is looking at the tiny as an appetizer to breakfast. It's always unnerving to see a mouth big enough to fit a whole person inside, talking about food and how hungry they were.

“Nevermind. I'll check.” Sam moved to his knees again. Standing up and walking the few steps to the fridge. A trek like that would have taken him several minutes just yesterday, at full sprint. But within seconds he's already standing at the mini fridge and opening it up like it was nothing. Leftover salad that he'd picked over for dinner last night, hardly making any noticeable dents in it. And a half drunk beer. Of course Dean wouldn't leave any leftovers of his own food. They had snacks in the car, but right now, Sam was making baby steps. Tackling one thing at a time. The great outdoors were still thought of as being too freaking _GREAT._ Too big and too risky.

Sam glanced across the room and saw his hook fly up and back down into the boot. Imagining his brother cursing up a storm at the inability to make it go where he wanted it to. The next try got it hooked onto the tongue but the tug to secure it just made the tongue dip inwards. He had to restrain a chuckle at that. About to give some pointers but holding back. Dean will figure it out. At least he's not scared stiff, and currently moving with a purpose that wasn't inherently driven by panic. The hook went up a third time and got the rear of the boot, finally the wall of thick leather was strong enough for Dean to haul himself up. Dean's tiny body was just barely seen exiting the boot. His hand brushing aside the bangs from his face for the umpteenth time. Finally tucking them behind his ears just enough for them to stay put. The bangs not quite long enough to stay there for too long. Dean slipped down a bit as he cursed out the hair again for falling into his eyes. Hoisting himself back up, a little leg was thrown over the edge. He leaned away enough to balance his butt on the leather tab at the back of the boot, as he surveyed his new height from just a foot above ground. The highest he'd been so far that morning.

Sam pulled out the salad and flat beer and brought it to the table. Setting about tearing bits of lettuce, tomato and a sliver of cucumber off to the side. Trying to portion it out fairly so Dean doesn't feel bad that he couldn't even finish a mouse sized salad. But also, give him enough food to fill him up. A delicate balance. Sam was definitely not used to eating food at this size so he found himself just looking at the cherry tomato in his fingers. It had been as big as his torso and is barely a nibbling bite now. He put it down and cut it up into little chunks. A third of it going for Dean's portion, as well as one of the three croutons. Crunched down to crumbs with his thumb so it would be easier for Dean to eat. The flavorful spices on the crouton should be good enough for Dean's tastes. Like dry french bread perhaps? Some much needed carbs for the strenuous day.

At the sound of the crushing, Dean's head jerked up and over. Mild shock in that pose before catching himself staring up at the giant. Darting his eyes back down as if looking giant in the eye while 'out' was a challenge. Like the monster would change his mind about letting the trapped person outside if they'd dared to look them in the eye, like a challenge. An irrational fear, but it was still hard to stare down something that damned big. Something that proved time and time again how much stronger it was, and was able to thwart Dean's escape attempts. The ease of it all for the giant. It's erratic moves made it hard to predict what it was going to do next.

Dean had spent a very long time working on his own movements. Limiting unnecessary motions and streamlining others so Sam could predict what he was going to do next, and how much time it would take for him to do it. Being predictable was one of the most important things to a small person. Knowing that if the big one is awake and moving around, that he's not going to suddenly stomp around the room for no reason. Nor move things around unless there was a reason behind moving it, if the thing has a ghost of a chance of interacting with the little person. Like a coat hanging of the back of a table's chair had to be secured enough by itself not to fall down the side and onto the tiny. Or, his heavy bag set down at an angle where it could fall down and crush the smaller brother with the shifting guns and weapons. Not a single thing was left hanging off any edges, even by a little bit, for the risk of it falling down.

Once Dean got the room set up just the way they liked it, he didn't change the location of anything without Sam's knowledge so Sam would know where it was. For instance, the laptop was always on the table, unless Dean was going to watch something on it on the bed. So even if Sam couldn't see it from the floor, he could trust that it will be up on the table by the time he scales to the top. Same with the cell phone on the nightstand, if someone calls, Sam can answer it after quickly scaling up there. Sam needed to trust that things were fixed in place for the time that they are in the room. For convenience sake as well as safety. The bags of salt were in the duffle bag which is always next to the bed on the floor so Sam could get some if he needed it in a hurry to make a salt ring. That habit came from one of their pit stop hotels that happened to be haunted. They weren't even looking for a hunt when the ghost suddenly showed up. Their penchant for using the hotel rooms that don't see a lot of guests means that the ghost went undetected for a long time. Thankfully, Dean was able to disburse it in time, but it nearly got to Sam who was out in the open with nothing to protect himself from the spirit.

Things had to be orderly, predictable, and now Dean's looking out at a room that was the definition of 'trip hazard' and 'chaos'. He was finding the surroundings more disturbing then if they were cleaned up. The books blocking the nightstand were strewn about, the pillow from the bed he used was between the beds, blankets draped on the ground, tissue box wedged against the wall, and one of the two chairs was on it's side from the giant's startled stumbling. Not to mention his huge bag that had been dumped out on the floor. At least the guy apologized for that.

Dean had spent enough time surveying the room to see that the other guy was picking at the salad from the fridge. He scooted over to the front of the boot and climbed down the still tied laces to the toe of it and slid down to the ground. Sam's old, care worn bag was slung over his shoulder. He nearly forgot about the hook still attached to the boot when it tugged at the bag. He took a minute and wound up the line haphazardly around his wrist and elbow. Quietly walked behind the boot that was three times as tall as him, flicking his wrist to dislodge the hook like he'd seen his Sam do it hundreds of times, and failing miserably at it.

Sam was trying not to make it obvious that he was staring, but was so tempted to help him out. Holding back. His knee started bouncing a bit to relieve some of the tension of not being able to just do it all for Dean. Knowing that Dean needs the practice if they're going to be stuck like this for any length of time. After the tenth time it seemed like Dean was about to ask for help, but straightened up again. Shoulders back. Returning stubbornly back to his task and flicking his wrist and arm with it. The hook flipping off of the edge and landing nearby. Dean did a little happy strut over to it and found the loop that Sam used for his hook. Smoothing out the rat leather bag with a hand, briefly marveling at the workmanship that had been put into the bag. It fit against his side perfectly once the strap went over his head to the other shoulder.

After that was done, and he was finally out of that damned boot. The smell of it dissipating into the air. He stood near it awkwardly. The aura of 'now what' in the air around him. He surveyed the room again and found no other exit readily visible, posture sagging slightly. Dean was pretty sure that if he went searching for another way out, he'd be caught in the act and stopped before he even got anywhere. Giving up before starting since the very act of trying to escape earlier earned him a wall sized hand being slammed into him. He'd sport some bruises in the morning for that. Dean gave the very tall motel door a longing look.

Sam wilted a bit at that. Dean was still trapped. This may not be a tiny cage for the four inch tall brother, but it was irrevocably sealed tight for the small hunter. Sam was hoping that Dean was finally seeing Sam for the good guy he is. Or at least, tries to be. Even if he doesn't believe that he's his brother. Sam cleared his throat and turned a little in the chair to face him more fully. “I got a salad up here for us. And I bet you could use a beer. Am I right?”

Dean hesitated for a good solid minute before the silence got to him and he shrugged a little. Seemingly realizing that the giant couldn't see that movement he walked a bit closer and shouted. “Uh, sure.”

Sam beamed at him brightly. Dean's face didn't have dimples per say, but Sam was trying his best to smile big enough to make them pop on the face he's wearing anyway. “Great!” he shouted a bit too loudly and winced himself when he saw Dean in his tiny old body flinch down and hands go to his ears. Crap. He could make Dean deaf if he's too loud, ergo, make him _self_ deaf. If he ever gets back into it, that is. This whole body swap thing is giving him a headache. It just felt so wrong to see Dean in Sam's body. He hadn't really looked at himself in the mirror much but could imagine Dean liked this even less. Knowing that other monsters have done that trick before and gotten him into deep shit with the law wearing his likeness. That shifter had killed people while it looked like Dean. There was no way in hell that that fact wasn't playing on repeat in his head every time he looked up into that face. Sam had his work cut out for him.

Sam tore off a bit of the notepad paper and folded it a couple of times. Scooting the food onto it like a plate and pausing for a moment with it hovering in mid air. “Did you want to eat up here? Or down there?”

Dean walked over closer, clearly surprising himself that he's doing this willingly. “I um, don't know?” he shouted up once he got closer.

“How about the floor?” Sam offered, speaking quickly to explain better, “I'm not insinuating anything! I don't think that it's humiliating or anything like that! I assure you. I just know that you're scared of heights and that you probably don't, uh, don't want me anywhere near you. Like, picking you up to bring you up to the table. The climb isn't easy for beginners.” Sam thumbed at the edge of the table. “But! If you want, I can lodge the hook into the edge for you and you can climb up on your own. _Whatever_ you want. I swear I wont grab you or force you into anything.”

Dean was warming up to the big guy the more he tripped over his words.

Sam would have thought that he would get through to Dean better if he seemed more confident but this appeared to be working, surprisingly enough. 'Probably because you're being your awkward self.' a chiding voice said in his head. Sounding like his own which was a little odd now that he's actually getting a tinge bit used to hearing Dean's voice coming out of his mouth whenever he speaks. It also helps that he never really did grab Dean in a fist. That's one thing different then how they met the first time after 13 years apart. Sam was snatched up without a second's hesitation by Dean who didn't know what he'd done at the time. Who he had in his fist. 'I'll do better by him.' Sam promised himself. The urge to grab was actually a very strong one. To feel what Dean must feel when he's got an entire life in his fingers.

Sam was jolted out of his head when he found the small voice nearly at his feet. “Floor's fine there Gigantor. Just uh, don't bounce your knees again. Uh, my knees.” he added nervously. The habit wasn't his own but he had noticed his Sam do it a few times when he's really nervous and sitting on something tall enough for the action. Usually it's hard to bounce a knee on the ground when that ground is a massive shoulder or inside of a pocket. The foot stomping repeatedly on the ground made it tremble and it felt so wrong to feel such an innocent movement like that become so scary. Like it was an ominous earthquake that wouldn't stop.

Even if the giant was acting nice enough now, Dean still couldn't just trust everything being said to him. After all, it wouldn't be the first monster that hunts by luring in their victims into a false sense of security first. Dropping their defenses, both physically and mentally. But damn did it sure _feel_ like his younger brother. Have his mannerisms. And he could imagine that this is how his Sammy would act in this situation. He had hoped that he would have been quieter though. Living inside walls and striving for utter silence his whole life should have hung over into this situation but, can't have it all. At least the giant stopped chasing him. That got tiresome real quick. In both senses of the word. His muscles were all sore as hell and he just wanted a ten hour rest, but food beckoned now.

As promised, Sam slowly lowered the paper plate to the floor a few feet away from his bare feet. Far off on the other side of Dean, so he was well out of the 'squish zone'. Dean saluted him and marched on over to his plate but stumbled when the hand dropped down from the sky again unexpectedly with a bottle cap of beer filled past the brim. Spilling a single drop over the side and absorbing into the carpet. Since he was so small, he could see the liquid actually dome up from the edge of the cap. Defying gravity as its top was a few inches, _millimeters,_ he corrected himself, above where it should be. Dean had seen this happen before but now it looked ridiculous. A finger went out and poked at it. The surface tension even felt weird. It moved away from his finger from the initial contact, then attached itself to the finger and slid up it to his palm. He pushed his hand in and curled his fingers upward, lifting his hand up and catching a bubble of the beer. Tiny bubbles of the beer attached around his hand, about the size of quarters.

“I'm holding a beer drop. In my hand.” turning it this way and that. Watching the image being distorted and flipped upside down through the amber liquid shape. It wasn't entirely flat, microscopic bubbles tickled his palm as he felt them rise to the top. “So awesome.” He'd seen water beads on surfaces before but never in a million years thought that he could just hold one. He put his lips to it and sucked in the beer. Forgetting about carbonation until after he swallowed but remembered that it was basically totally flat beer and he wasn't in danger of getting a belly ache. Not like Sam had done with that first taste of freshly opened carbonated pop. The taste was a little different but recognizable. He chalked it up to it being different taste buds in his mouth. Sam's mouth. “This is all so freaking weird.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam said above and caught himself staring. “Sorry. I just, I forget that you hadn't experienced any of this before. For me, it's kinda like how you see something through someone else's eyes and it's like you're experiencing it for the first time yourself. Doesn't matter what it is, it's just, _weird_.”

Dean nodded at that. Seeing the room from this low vantage, it's so alien to him. Hostile feeling, since it's so damned open and huge. Understanding more now then ever the desire to put a roof overhead that's not higher then the clouds. Under the bed felt better and more like a regular ceiling with the wood beams all going in one direction. Kind of like in an attic with exposed rafters, or one of the many abandoned warehouses he'd hunted in.

His paper plate with its huge veggies was pulled into his lap and he didn't even bother worrying about if his food was poisoned or not. Digging in and eating because hell, if the giant wanted to hurt him, he could have the instant he laid eyes on him. The giant wouldn't even have to _touch_ him to kill him. And poisoning doesn't really seem like this guy's style. Besides, he watched him take the salad out of the fridge that he himself put in there last night. There was no secret trips to the bathroom to grab some cleaning products or anything like that. He just watched the double of himself cut up the food and stare at it like he'd never seen a salad before. Maybe he hadn't at this new size. Even monsters wouldn't stop and stare at a damned tomato for two minutes like it's something new and interesting. Or treat the rest of the tiny meal proportioning like its important or meaningful. Maybe it was. Dean thought to himself that this guy might be the real deal. _Might actually be his Sam._

Addressing that idea could be dangerous if he's wrong. The monster winning him over with that admittance. But. He decided to give him a chance at least. Perhaps get some answers from 'Sam' if it really is him. A test. “So, if you're really Sam.” he started, watching how the giant stiffened and looked down a little eagerly. Not sure if it's overly 'sinister eager' or just 'regular eager'. “If you're Sam, what was his adoptive mother and father's names?”

Sam grinned a bit. His brother is giving him a shot. “Walt and Mallory Watch. I lived with them for 13 years, starting the minute after I was first cursed this size, uh, I mean, your size. Sorry, so used to explaining my story to other Littles. We haven't met too many Littles, but help whoever we can, no matter what the victims look like.” A bit of pride in his voice. “We save lives, big and small.”

Dean accepted that answer, even if it did sound a bit staged. The explanation for that rehearsed answer was sound, he had to admit. “What does Sam like to do with his free time?”

“I write in my journal, updating it on all the monsters we hunted.” Fingers itching a bit to point it out inside the bag. Wondering if revealing some of the entries would help corroborate his story.

Dean pat at the bag, reading the other's expression. “Even if you tell me what's in this, I know that some Shifters can read minds and you'd know what it says if you did that. I can't rely on facts and figures.” He stated and got up to pace a bit. “What I need are questions that don't have textbook answers from Sam's memory. Like, what would Sam do if he got caught by a rat when he was alone.”

“That actually happened once. It wasn't a big one, equivalent to a kid I think. Already weaned so it was starting off on its own. I didn't want to kill some rat kit so I carefully put my belt around it's neck, turning it into a leash and pulled it out of the main part of the hotel. It wasn't easy, thing was about up to my waist and very strong. I never told my dad about it, I just released the animal outside and blocked that dryer exhaust vent entrance for a few weeks until I was sure it wouldn't try coming back that way.”

Dean hummed to himself. From the sound of it, it was a memory, not a theoretical answer, but at the same time, it sure sounded like his brother, and he'd never heard that story before. So it wouldn't really corroborate well with Dean's knowledge of his childhood spent in the hotel. Admitting it was an actual event wouldn't have helped this guys case if he was going for something Dean would want to hear. Giving an answer that would help the giants case. “What would Sam have done if he'd chosen to keep it?”

Sam thought for a second, “Probably teach it to help us out. I dunno. Rats are pretty smart but I'm sure that Walt wouldn't have allowed it as a pet. The competition for food was too great to share with something as big as a bear to us. And, if anyone saw the rat they'd call the exterminators and we'd all be in trouble. So, I think, I would keep it away from everyone until it was too risky to keep it anymore. I don't think I'd risk training it. I can't risk my family and all the other families for a pet.” He looked a little sad at that before brightening his expression. “We did make friends with the mice though, they're kinda like dogs if you imprint on them early enough. They sometimes lead us to food but, we still wouldn't keep them as pets.”

Dean grinned at that. Such a 'Sam' answer. He could see the desire to own a furry critter but the knowledge that it just hadn't been practical in his old life. “Would you want a pet mouse now?”

“Now? Like _now_ now? I mean, you would be the one at a higher risk against a strange mouse, Dean.” Sam looked uncomfortable now. Dean doesn't know the first thing about mouse raising. That imprinted ones are pretty docile unless they're provoked, and feral mice can be bad news if they didn't want to share the motel's resources.

Dean was really starting to feel comfortable with the giant. Even if he's bigger then a sky scraper and still louder then necessary. “What if we got a hamster, Sam?”

“A hamster? They're not all that bright. They've had their wits bred right out of them in favor of color patterns. They also eat far more then they need to, get fat easily, and lazy.” Sam sneered. Then it dawned on him. “You called me Sam.” lips quirking up at the corners. The small flame of hope flickering a bit brighter in his green eyes.

Dean chuckled a bit, “Ya see? It's that kind of shrewd observations skills and intelligence that proves you're my Sammy. Everyone else would have picked up on that fact I said your name sooner, Half Pint.” The teasing tone made it clear that Dean believed him. “Or should I change that nickname. Whole Milk?”

Sam didn't care a lick what Dean calls him as a nickname. So long as it isn't with that fear in the voice. He wanted to sweep Dean up into his hands and hug him. He had to get closer, leaning over and down at his older brother, hands on his knees and fidgeting. Fingers flexing, itching to do something. Knowing that it's still too soon for that. “Damn it's so good to have you believe me.” A hand wiping at his face. “I didn't know what else to do! To say! I know this is all big and intimidating as hell. And I'm trying to remember how new it all was for me when we first met up again. I just, I got so used to you being _you._ ” the word surmising all that was 'Dean' in Sam's mind. Huge, strong, kind. “And me being well, _me_... ya know?” his self deprecating half smile showing how little he thought of his abilities next to Dean's. Getting better and more confident in the presence of such a huge person every day, but some times it would strike home how vulnerable he really is. It had been over a year but there were still things that were surprising and new. But so long as they got each other, they're good.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!   
> Since I'm also working on another fanfic, updates might be irregular. I will try and get them out weekly, but I might be a pinch late. I hope you enjoy!


	4. Big Hurdles to Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both need some time and space to come to terms with this.

Chapter Four:

Big Hurdles to Conquer

 

 

Sam's eyes shown a bit, damn near twinkling as he said, “So glad you're ok after everything. That I didn't screw it up royally. That we can work this out. We got this!”

Dean couldn't stop the tingle of fear creep up his spine at the enthusiastic voice booming around him and the huge hands flexing excitedly. The loose fist thumping down on the tops of the knees to emphasize his brother's points which shook the ground each time. The impacts traveling from the fist down the leg and into the floor. Dean could swear he felt his teeth rattle with each thump.

It would make sense that Sam wouldn't see even minor movements as all that massive. Dean spent a very long time learning on how to control his fidgeting and subconscious moves and gestures. Ok, maybe not _all_ of them, but at least he wrangled the more drastic ones.

When Sam wanted to gesticulate whilst talking when he was little, he always had to emphasize the hand gestures and body language greater for Dean to even _see_ them. Wide swoops of his hands for each important point made, or direction he wanted Dean to go look. Now it was like watching a demigod compose a great orchestra. Dean found him raising up his hands to help forestall his brother's enthusiasm.

Sam abruptly caught himself at the body language. Seeing his brother take a step back with those small arms up. Bringing him right back to the present. Coaching himself not to overdo his excitement. Ok, so maybe he was pretty damned happy. Sue him. He restrained and folded his hands and rested them in between his knees. Without an outlet for his happiness, his smile grew wider for a moment. Dimples showing. Sam knew what he must look like so he cleared his throat and tried to get back to business “So now what?”

Dean was grateful that Sam was letting him take the lead. It would be so so easy for him to just make every decision for them, and he worried if he'd ever done the same while big. “Well, uh, it's still going to take me some time to get used to this, so bear with me, ok? We're going to built this one stone at a time, right? Stone number one: We will talk before doing anything.” Dean raised up a finger. This one was most important for both of them. Sam could easily take control but it looks like his younger brother is insisting Dean takes control for everything, and, as tempting as that is, it wouldn't be a fair dynamic for them. They are a team and this strange situation shouldn't change that fact.

Sam nodded easily. “Sure man. Anything.” he looked over at the tabletop, noticing the closed laptop and the research notes littered on top. It was still pretty dim in the room because Sam was never the one to turn on the lights for them. Forgetting even basic stuff that Dean did for them. Check the time, turn on or off lights. Open or close doors. Grab food for the both of them. Mundane for any regular human, but Sam was anything but. Spending so long being at the mercy of everything around him. Nature, the elements, his surroundings, and most of all, having to watch out for humans. Even harmless humans could make mistakes that might kill him. He had to watch out for himself first, only able to do so much when he was 4 inches tall. A wave of insecurities washed over Sam's thoughts. He's going to have to do all the heavy lifting now. Protect them both, provide for them, hunting down whatever was responsible for this bad 'Freaky Friday' remake. His eyes trailed back down to Dean who was standing there a couple of feet away from his feet. Probably still trying to get used to seeing his body sitting there at that angle. Feeling for the first time what it's like to be the small one.

“Did you, uh, want up?” Sam motioned to the tabletop.

Dean backed up a few more steps, hands coming up of their own accord to hold back the giant. Half expecting to be swept up in a hand he couldn't possibly stop. Sam's hurt expression turned to resignation. Dean hated seeing that look in his little brother. Bringing out the kicked puppy face no matter what face Sam's behind. A brief thought went through his head of being jealous of the fact that Sam could do that kicked puppy look using Dean's face, and not even Dean could do it when he was in his rightful body. The expression was there and gone too fast for Dean to memorize it, but not before it hit him in the feels. Sam turned back to the table and fiddled with the research papers, looking at the handwritten notes on them.

Dean made his hands into fists and pushed them at his sides firmly. Mumbling under his breath too quiet for Sam to hear. “You can do this.” facing the floor, squinting his eyes shut tight and grimacing. Knowing that the giant is really Sam, doesn't stop him from being a freaking _GIANT_. Unfortunately.

Mumbling encouragement to himself. “You can do this. It's just Sam. He's fine. Safe. Look at how he's been respectful of you so far.” Another part of his mind flashing back to just a half hour ago, being chased around the room like a rat. “That's _not_ his fault. I started shouting at him first. Accusing him of being a monster. He didn't deserve that. Man up, Winchester.” and firmed his jaw, angling his head up... way _way_ up to see that Sam was still facing the table top again. Playing with the laptop now. Using his index fingers to type with because he never really learned how to use all of his fingers on the keyboard at the same time. Always needing to jump from one key to the another to type.

Dean heard the long pauses between key taps. Sam was no doubt trying to forget seeing the keyboard as a workout and now as a useful machine. Dean took a few steps closer now that the giant's attention was away from him, it was easier to deal with it. Some playful nicknames might help out. “So, Jolly Green.” He started and startled when Sam leaned over to stare down at him. That tingle hitting him again and Dean knew that it was Sam's old quirk, and very briefly wondered what his would have been, if he'd develop one at all.

“Yeah?”

“Think you might need some help? Uh, up there?” One of his fists bumping against the side of his leg nervously. Holding out his hands like a bowl and lifting it up to pantomime how he'd like to be carried, before feeling foolish and letting his hands drop again. “Just uh, go slow, Ok?”

Sam nodded and grinned. He leaned forward slowly for him, but to Dean it looked like a building was crashing overhead. Flinching back terribly and his arms covered the top of his head. “Sorry.” The voice boomed overhead. Dean finally looked up to see Sam was sitting upright again. Hands wrapping around his midsection like holding in his shameful sin of just being _big_.

“It's fine!” Dean's voice damn near squeaked out. Clearing his throat a bit and aiming for a joke. “Damn, Sam,” rubbing at his neck. “I thought you were past puberty!” Like it was Sam's body that made the squeaking. Technically it _was_ , but still...

Sam shrugged and looked away again. The joke falling flat. Sam wanted to find this funny but there was just so much to think about and consider for literally _everything_. Is Dean making jokes to make himself calm down, or make Sam calm, or to stall, to change topics, to distract Sam from doing anything else, or maybe it's all of the above. Sam ignored the negative for the moment, “Did you want me to come down to your level?” he offered, lifting the laptop to move it away from the table.

The act alone made Dean's eyes widen. Something that big should not be moved that effortlessly. Logically, he knew it was normal, having moved the computer countless times before, but seeing it from this new perspective would never be normal.

Sam kept going, not even seeing the face down on the ground with any kind of clarity. “It's not a problem.” He insisted and got up from the chair on the other side, away from Dean and placed the laptop on the carpet, the landing made a minor tremble on the floor that Dean felt in his body along with all of the other movements. Then Sam was pulling papers and notes from the table and laying them out on the ground far enough from Dean so an errant one wouldn't fall on him – even if it did no harm whatsoever – but still close enough so Dean wouldn't have a strenuous workout walking to the research notes. Spreading each one out and ending up covering a huge area of floor. Making it so Dean wouldn't have to try and lift or turn pages to see what they compiled on the case so far. Sam shuffled a few around, overlapping the blank spaces to condense it a bit.

Sam backed up again, on his hands and knees after turning the laptop around to face Dean head on. Standing once he was sure Dean was far enough away to not be frightened by the move. “You can look at those, and I'll uh. I need to use the facilities.” and blushed ferociously. Mumbling to himself but still loud enough for Dean to hear anyway. “Gonna be so damned awkward. No lights on. Just drop trou and do it. This is my body so long as I'm in it.”

Dean had flushed cheeks as well, looking anywhere but the bathroom where Sam disappeared. It can't be helped, nature called and does not like to be ignored for long. The sounds of a shower started up a few minutes later and Dean thought that, awkwardness aside, it must be nice for Sam to have a normal shower for the first time in forever. Even if most motels have shower heads that only go up to six feet maximum, at least it wasn't from a sink's faucet. Dean knew that if he wanted one, that's exactly how he'd need to take it. Sink showers. Oh goody.

He hadn't really seen a reflection of himself yet, just knew he was in Sam's body by the evidence of his brown shaggy hair, the unfamiliar hands, and clothes, and the fact that Sam said so. Of course, it's not like Sam had access to mirrors everyday... but people still basically know what they look like. Dean saw the somewhat reflective screen of the laptop and walked over to it. It resembled a movie screen at this size. He took a step up onto the flat keyboard part, next to, but not on, the keys themselves, feeling the computer starting to warm up already. The whirring of its internal fan starting up to keep it from overheating. The vibrations moving up through his feet like a nice massage. No wonder Sam liked it up here. A warm foot massage every time he used it.

Noticing again that just like Sam, he was also barefoot and in sleep clothes. He'd have to borrow some of Sam's clothes since his own could cover a few houses. All of the clothes that could fit him now are way _way_ across the room in the small nightstand room. He grinned at that. When they were younger, before the curse, Sam used to borrow his older brother's clothes often, even if they were far too baggy on the scrawny kid. Dean wanted to give Sam new clothes all the time, but they couldn't afford it. Save for a trip to goodwill here and there, they had to deal with what they got. Sam was a growing boy after all, and it's not like they had unlimited trunk space for things that weren't necessary for hunting. Part of the reason they wore layers all the time. The main reason for the layers was like a body armor against unexpected attacks. Werewolf claws would have to pass by more then just a t-shirt if they wanted to draw blood. It also helped cushion falls and kept them from getting even more injured. So, thick flannel were the shirts that worked for them. Sam's current wardrobe was pretty limited to designs in the clothes, usually sticking to muted colors. Dean's wardrobe was pared back to the essentials. Fed suit needing a special place so it wouldn't get too wrinkled. Sam and Dean owned precious few things growing up in the backseat of the Impala. So, clothes, like everything they owned, were replaced when absolutely necessary.

He put it out of his mind for now, and looked at his reflection. His brother's reflection. The screen was nowhere near as perfect as a mirror's reflection would be, but still, he was looking at the face of his brother. At the same size. It was so surreal in more ways then one. It almost seemed like his younger brother was mimicking him or mocking his stupefied expressions.

Pushing the long bangs out of the way, Dean leaned in and looked closer. Sam may still be just in his twenties but his face looked a bit older, a hard life showing through. Dean had a stray thought that it was really himself that he's seeing. Neither brother had it easy growing up, Dean knew that from day one after reuniting again, but that wouldn't stop them from going on. Fighting the good fight. He just wished he could fight along side his brother like this, standing side by side at equal height. Sure Sam had proven himself time and time again how well adept he was despite his stature, or even because of it, but until now, Dean never truly understood how daunting of a challenge that really is. It's something to say they understand, but this... this is a whole new daunting perspective, and his head just can't wrap around it.

He stood there, staring at the reflection, and hoped that one day he and Sam would break the curse. Dean knew that Sam was fine at this size, even excelled at turning this situation around for their benefit. Monsters weren't expecting someone this small to get the jump on them. Never even crossing their minds that a Hunter no taller then a cup of coffee could help bring them down. But, Dean still couldn't stop thinking about having his brother back to being human. Amending, both of them, being human.

Dean choked up a bit. Ever since that hunt where they'd met the wood sprite, Bowman Leafwing, they'd thought about what it would be like to be the same size. Given a glimpse of it during that shared dreamscape that the wood sprite's Spirit given them as reward for their help saving all of the sprites and the woods they called home.

If Sam never shrank, he'd be 6 ft 4. A good three inches taller then Dean. He raised his hand and approximated three inches shorter then Sam's reflection and frowned at the fact that that's how tall he'd be if he were little right next to Sam. But, Dean was seriously considering it would be worth it just to be able to give his little bro a hug, pat on the back, without worrying if he's being too rough. Or like now, since their roles are reversed, if Sam could even _feel_ a pat on the back.

Dean used his fingers to ruffle Sam's hair on his head, pulling at it a bit and wondering if now would be the perfect time to cut Sammy's hair. Smirking to himself, he'd save that little threat for later. No doubt Sam could do much worse in Dean's body. Like scratch the Impala or dunk Dean in a bathtub of water for retaliation. Make Dean wear nothing but barbie clothes until they figure out how to reverse this... this, whatever this is. Dean leaned closer to the reflection. Studying Sam's face in such detail that he couldn't really see all that well before. The dimples when he smiled, the stubble on his chin. That tiny scar on his arm from one of their hunts. And the ghost white one on his cheek. Invisible to a human's eye. Dean took Sam's word for it that the wound he'd gotten had never left a mark from that hunt a month back.

Dean shook his head at Sam's reflection. Sam never wanted his brother to worry about him. Holding in the painful reminders that the world in general isn't kind to anyone his size. Carrying around scars that Dean just couldn't see. Dean wondered what else Sam was hiding from him. He patted himself down, focusing on the aches and pains but coming up with nothing much. At least, nothing that he hadn't done to himself that morning. Just the normal sore muscles from running and falling a few times, but, it seems like Sam's body is used to that because now that he's concentrating on it, Dean knows that if he were the one to do all that, that he'd need a few aspirin by now. Right, Sam was stronger then someone this size should be, hardier, but of course, not a superman. Just, tougher and a bit stronger. Dean was grateful for that at least, for both their sake's.

He reluctantly lifted up the night shirt when he felt a sore bruise starting to form in the shape of a finger going diagonal starting at his left shoulder, down across his chest to his right hip. No mystery as to when it was made. Two other marks on either side weren't as apparent for the index and ring finger's marks, since his body was too small for them to connect as sharply as the middle finger from the gigantic swatting hand. Dean shuttered at the memory. Feeling like some insignificant bug. Shaking himself out, he pushed the shirt back down. Deciding to forgive Sam and not even mention it to him. When Sam had dove for the wall opening, blocking it and shoving Dean away, it hurt. A lot. He'd tumbled away the equivalent of 20 feet. Dean knew it could have been much worse, so this was nothing. Forgiven, forgotten. Sam doesn't need to know. At least he didn't grab him in a fist right after. That would have been much worse. Sam's not used to regulating his strength, Dean could have broken bones before Sam figured out something was wrong with his grip.

Dean lifted up the arm that Sam had broken by that wretched bitch that crushed Sam's body in her fist. Shuddering at the thought of it all over again, especially now that that's a real possibility for Dean. Dean knew it was magically healed all the way, but, imagined what it must have been like to be without such an important limb. He watched Sam deal with it everyday for many weeks while it healed, but now, it felt even more real. Taking in his surroundings and feeling the helplessness of it all as if it just happened. Knowing that Sam would have died if he didn't have help. Unable to climb, get food for himself, escape humans or insects or animals. Old feelings coming back to him the more he studied Sam's lean frame. Solid muscles and the traces of a hard life still etched into the small wrinkles around his eyes. The floor shook, heralding Sam's arrival into the room again. Dean noticed the steam coming from the bathroom that came from a shower. Sam had a towel around his waist and held it with a white knuckled grip, after locating his brother for safety's sake, he darted his eyes elsewhere, adamantly looking everywhere but Dean. Busying himself with the Dean's bag and the clothes inside one handed.

“I'm just gonna...., yeah.” he announced to the TV and pulled out a pair of jeans, boxers, and a shirt with a pocket before ducking back into the dark bathroom.

Dean just watched him go and chuckled. Deciding that, sure, as long as their minds are in these bodies, they belong to them. To an extent. Obviously they're not going to do lasting changes or damage because that would be an asshole move. So, no new tattoos for Dean's body, and no cutting hair for Sam. Dean figured he'd make it easy on Sam, and when his brother emerged again and sat on one of the beds to pull on a pair of socks, Dean just shouted up. “Mind helping me out? Uh, into the sink? Got my own morning routine to do.” Dean said, mentally bracing himself for what would have to happen for that to commence. He'd need Sam to pick him up.

Sam raised an eyebrow and agreed. Approaching at a snail's pace this time but grinned at Dean's exasperated huff. “Dude, I needed to go like _yesterday_. Hurry your ass up!” and danced in place for a second to illustrate his point. Dean's fear of the hand approaching took a backseat for the time being, and he practically jumped on and sat down.

Sam started to lift up the hand when he saw Dean curl into a sitting ball. Knees brought up and hugged, head tucking down into them. Sam frowned, offering, “Did you want me to....?” and lifted his other hand, cupping around Dean a bit more fully to which Dean reached up and actually pulled the fingers over and around himself. No hesitation. Dean wanted a roof. Sam didn't say another word, knowing that Dean probably wouldn't want to see a damned thing while he felt like he was flying through the air. Sam kept his hands as sturdy as possible, firmly folded into a ball with Dean gripping onto the ring on his finger like a handle. Sam tilted his hand a bit, surprised to see the metal ring on the his right hands ring finger as well as the one that Walt had made out of leather with the anti-possession symbol on it on the left hand's ring finger. Dean was grabbing both, one in each hand. Anchoring himself in place for the trip.

Sam finally got to the bathroom and lowered his hands into the sink carefully, opening up his palms and seeing Dean cowering inside. Tiny hands clutching at the ring's still. Sam cleared his throat. “We're here.”

Dean looked up and then around at the backyard pool sized porcelain sink, and the faucet that towered overhead. Calcium buildup with rust inside the opening aimed down at him. The drain had a metal grate blocking it for catching hair but a few long strands of blond hair were still peeking up from the trap. There were faint traces of toothpaste clumps inside the sinks bowl, and he shuddered to think much more on the amount of saliva over the years that had been spit into the sink from countless people's tooth brushing.

He felt a little queasy at the slight smell coming from the drain. Wondering if Sam had to deal with this level of dirt everyday and knowing the answer was 'Of course he does, Stupid. He lived inside _walls_ for most of his life.' Then thinking about how Sam's immune system must be frickin' awesome after all those years. Hardly ever getting sick from regular colds or flu's.

Sam distracted Dean's train of thought, when he angled his hands a bit, making Dean slide downwards to the bowl since he'd frozen in place. Dean clutched tighter to the hands and pushed back upwards to the wrists. Sam leveled out his hands again and frowned. “Something wrong?”

Dean looked up and tried to compose an answer that didn't sound like ungrateful whining. “Can you uh, clean the sink out first? Lots of soap?”

Sam's eyebrows raised a bit. Right, humans can't see the grime and filth all that well from so high up. Not even realizing that surfaces that may look clean, are rarely clean at all. Dust can be found literally anywhere. Food crumbs, plant matter that the wind blows in, human skin cells and hairs... it's a wonder Dean's not freaking out more at the jarring realization how dirty the human world really is in a very literal sense. Dean's not used to that fact. Sam held back describing what it's like inside walls and under floorboards if this is enough to make Dean look queasy. At least Sam just has to deal with the dust from drywall and masonry work, the organic particles are just 'ickier', so they wash up at home everyday to keep themselves and their homes clean.

Sam nodded and moved his hands out of the sink to the counter where Dean jumped off on his own. Sam stared at the faucet knobs for a second before turning both on and using his hands like a bowl to bring it around the edges. Rinsing the inside and then used the hand soap pump a few times around the edges. Then grabbing a washcloth and thoroughly scrubbing at the sink, drain and faucet. Rinsing again and scrubbing again. The thing practically sparkled and Dean considered himself damned lucky for Sam's help. Vowing to do the same for Sam in every future hotel room, once they're back to normal. Sam was always content to use an over-sized coffee mug Dean got him, like a tall hot tub, to wash up in. But Dean liked showers so Sam considered this was good of a time as any to make it more hospitable. Sam then draped down one of the clean dry hand towels into the sink at the other side and turned on the hot water with a touch of cold. Figuring Dean wanted to shower up as well. Mimicking what his shower had felt like.

“I'll get you a change of clothes.” He said and left the bathroom for a few minutes. Returning with the clothes once Dean was done with step one of the morning routine to get on with step two. Trying to get his clothes out of his tiny duffle was tricky so he just brought the whole thing into the room and set it on the counter for him. Dean called him back to help with the shampoo and conditioner and Sam shook his head at that. Forgetting it was always Dean doing that for him. So he put a dab of each into their respected lids and set them into the sink as well, but far enough from the running stream of hot water. “Anything else?”

Dean checked out the set up and smirked a bit before seeing what's missing. “One of the cloths you use for a towel.”

Sam nodded once and laid it next to the clothes. Leaving the bathroom, “Just, uh, holler when you want to get down.” Dean had been carrying his old satchel with the attached hook and line, around with him everywhere but Sam knew that using his gear to climb with was still out of the question at the moment for Dean. The three foot tall counter is just too high for someone's first try at rappelling, even if the task only requires a controlled fall down the rope. It wasn't necessary so long as Sam was there to help.

Sam was now left to his own devices for a good twenty minutes so he went to the bed and sat down again. Bouncing on the mattress and loving the softness of it. He stretched out on it like a cat and put his arms behind his head. Looking at his socked feet nearly hanging off the edge. Noticing the pocket in the shirt he picked out and watching it raise and fall with his breaths. The minor tremors of his heart underneath it. So this is what Dean see's when Sam uses him like a bed. He brought a hand down and covered the pocket gently. Picturing what it would look like with Dean in it now. Wondering if that's something Dean would even want to try.

For Sam it was just a given that his big brother was used like furniture most days. A platform to get him from A to B or like a blanket keeping him warm when it's cold out. Dean's coats and suits like a shield against prying eyes of humans that wish him harm. It was easy to forget about it from Dean's point of view. Sam could see how great the urge was to protect his smaller brother. All those memories he had where he yelled up at Dean that he's not some fragile little thing. That he can take care of himself. And all those times that Dean had to bite his cheek to argue the facts. Sam found himself clutching the pocket in a too tight fist from the old remembered fights. Releasing it immediately and opening up his hand in front of his face in horror. If Dean had been in there, he'd have been _crushed. Dead._

Sam shot a look at the bathroom where the water was still heard running and Dean's singing drifted out into the room. So odd to hear his voice coming out instead of Dean's, bellowing out familiar lyrics. Sam had heard a few times growing up, that no one knows what their own voice sounds like unless it had been recorded and played back. Even then it's not entirely accurate because of difference in electronic speakers. Since the skull vibrates with the vocal chords it literally sounds different to the person speaking versus listener. Usually deeper to themselves then what everyone else hears. He listened for a few minutes to an enthusiastic rendition of 'You Shook Me All Night Long'. A short break in the singing to a shout of, “The water pressure is amazing!” before Dean happily went back to ruining the next verse with new lyrics that better fit his current situation.

At least his older brother is finally having some fun. Sam's stomach growled again. Guessing that that small salad wasn't enough to fill 'the mighty hunters'. He rubbed the stomach and rolled his eyes at Dean's overused phrase for announcing that he was planning on grabbing food for them. Sam waited patiently, looking at a ceiling that seemed far too close and a room that was nearly claustrophobic to him now. He turned to his side and noticed the tissue box covering the hole in the wall and frowned at it. If something bad were to happen to Sam, and Dean was left alone in the room, he'd be truly trapped in there with no way of escaping. So he got up and went over to the wall, and removed the box and tissues from the hole, frowning that he ruined the camouflage of the bolt hole. Trying to fix it with fingers that were twice as long as it was tall. Picking a blunt fingernail at the wall paper to unfold and unroll it from its inward crumpled up state.

“Sure, nothing to see here folks.” Sam grumbled and picked at it with growing frustration. “Dean could probably work on it better.” he sighed, giving up after he accidentally tore part of the wallpaper. Too big to do anything to help.

He sat on the floor next to it and leaned back to the wall, and thought about never being able to enter any house's walls floors or interiors again. If they get stuck like this for good, all the things that would change. Getting depressed that the next time they visit Walt and the others, he'd be stuck in the hotel room the whole time. Getting those fearful looks from Krissy and a few others. But. On the plus side, Dean could finally go see what one of their homes is supposed to look like. The one and only time he'd seen a little home is the charred remains of the one Sam grew up in after being cursed. The home of his adoptive parents, Walt and Mallory Watch. Dean never met Mallory, because she had been murdered in their home that was set ablaze. Sam remembers walking into it after the flames had died down. The whole roof was gone and exposed to the hotel room above. The only parts that had burned was the room and the parts closest to it, where his adoptive mother had been. Since the fire was supernatural in origin, it didn't spread to the rest of the small rooms or hotel, which was a blessing for all the other families that called the 'Trails West' home. Still, Sam lost his home and mother. All over again. Dean found him there in the half destroyed home under the floorboards, drained of tears and hope. Staying with him until Sam found enough strength to move on. To go with Dean, because at the time, he didn't know that Walt had survived the fire. He thought his little family was dead.

Dean helped him gather up what could be salvaged from the home before leaving it forever. His bed, journal, belongings, and a few mementos. All of it fit in one of Dean's hands, and stored in a single pocket.

Sam let his eyes travel down to the floor of the room he's in now. These had thick carpet instead of wood slats and there'd be no light coming in past the floorboards. If there were homes down there, they'd need some kind of artificial light or live in total blackness. His hand grazed against the carpet fibers, the feel of it was so different to him now. Barely able to detect each loop, because they all blended together. Something that was always a pain to walk through when little, was now inconsequential. The dangers he had faced inside the buildings infrastructure were not an issue for him anymore, they were Dean's.

Sam put it from his mind. Dean probably wont want to explore any walls on his own just yet. Which put his mind a little at ease. There would be no way for him to reach his inexperienced brother unless he tore into the walls with a hammer or fist. That thought came to his mind more then once when Dean would knock on the walls just to see if Sam was nearby to give a few knocks back to let the human know he heard, and where he's currently at. In strange motels and houses it was never an exact science to go exploring. Usually Sam had to spend hours or days mapping out the paths and rooms in new places. Not every wall had a way past the vertical boards so Littles would have to either tunnel under, or painstakingly through the wooden beams without risking the structural stability of the house. There were only so many places they could make passageways before a house actually becomes unstable. So, many of Sam's people would find path's of least resistance to widen an entrance a fraction of an inch here and there. Just big enough for them to squeeze past. Some learning the hard way that wider passageways might invite rats. And rats are ten kinds of trouble that they want to avoid.

But, all that aside, Sam thinks that it would be good for Dean to see the other side of things. To feel that the closeness of the walls feels pretty safe for one of their kind. It's these wide open spaces that are the most dangerous. At least Dean was already more or less used to wide spaces since he regularly went outside as a human. Going to train stations and some churches while on a hunt. While back at his old hotel home, Sam could only watch the outside world from a small alcove high above the parking lot. Still feeling secured and safe from birds and humans. Dean had a fear of heights which might hinder him in this life. But, maybe this can be fun if he has the right tour guides like Sam's friends and family.

See what it's like to travel inside walls and floors and ceilings. To play with the kids, and not worry about being too rough all the time. Sam grinned at that. There would be a silver lining even if they were stuck like this. Sam got to thinking about what if they did return to Trails West? Or head to Colorado and visit Oscar again. Dean could have some fun with their old friend as well. Remembering how proud Oscar was of his home when he showed it off to Sam and was a little upset that Dean couldn't check it out as well. Oscar didn't have very many friends he could talk to, so whenever they visited, he'd tell them about all the things that happened. The mouse pups he befriended and people that had passed through.

Sam then frowned. He didn't know how to get to Colorado. Dean took the wheel every time and let Sam sleep or navigate for part of the trip. They hunted at Dean's pace since it was him doing all the driving, checking into motels, getting food and everything else they needed the human sized brother to do. Sam was never the one to do any of those things. Too dangerous or big for him to handle so he did the lion's share of research and helped where he could. If they wanted to get anywhere at all now, that's over a few miles walking distance, he'd have to learn how to drive a car. He'd picked up the basics here and there, but the actually practicalities of it... there was no way. Dean would not trust Sam to Baby for his first time getting behind the wheel. No one on earth is good at driving right off the bat. Especially not someone who'd spent most of their life away from cars and traffic and the wide world in general. Kids tend to know streets and traffic rules by osmosis before they even start to think about driving. Watching their parents use turn signals, when to brake, what to do if the car slides on ice, what to do if an animal darts into the road, when to fill up the gas tank. And what to do if there's a funny sound coming from the engine.

The more Sam thought about it the less color showed on his face. Without the car, they might as well be stuck at _this_ hotel. They'd have to get enough money to tow the Impala to Bobby's or someplace safe. And to get that kind of cash, they will need to steal it or do some bar hustling. Crap! How does Dean _do it?_ A lifetime of pool playing and bar games to perfect each one. Acting as if he's drunk so that he can swindle the patrons out of their cash. To fight off sore losers afterwards if it came to it. Sam had no experience in any of that. Not even acting the part since his experience with strangers was next to nil. He's going to have to talk to massive amounts of strangers every time he steps foot outside of the hotel. Make small talk about things that he has no experience with. Only recently in the last year being able to watch TV in peace with Dean, and the occasional movie in the theater. What if they wanted to talk about sports? Politics? Religion beyond demon exorcising and lore? Hell, what if he runs into a monster? He knew how to use what he had when he was small, but hand to hand now? In someone else's body no less? What if he gets himself killed, what will Dean do then? Forever stuck little in his body? Lost? Alone? Vulnerable? Would Dean die trying to save his younger brother? Get himself caught by humans? Caged? Sold? Chased down by an animal and eaten!?

He distantly heard a voice from the bathroom behind him but his breaths were coming fast and short. Feeling trapped and lost and out of his depths and alone and the walls are closing in aren't they? The rooms shrinking, he's growing, it's too hot in here. And how did this all happen anyway? Is he loosing his mind? Would Dean be ok if he did? Dean can't live on his own at this size. Not for long unless he's got someone to teach him. And Sam can't teach him because he's a huge useless giant now that is having a stupid freaking panic attack sitting on the floor of a old hotel room with his brother shouting at him and it's all messed up and wrong and small and big and what's making that sound? Great, now he's hearing voices, shouting his name -  
Wait...

Dean's shouting at him.

Sam found his arms wrapped around his head, trapping his rapid breaths and the cool room air hit his sweating face. His head felt too light and heavy at the same time but he managed to find the right muscles and lifted it just above his knees to see Dean jogging from the bathroom into the living area.

Dean slowed at the look he was getting. Raising his hands up and to the sides like he was approaching a wild animal. Sam sniffled a bit and found that he'd been crying silently. Ducking his head back down to his knees and wiping off his face on the pants and his sleeves to get rid of the evidence. Hoping Dean didn't see any of that. Swallowing down his emotions a little and hearing Dean saying something but his brother was too small to make it out. His gut clenched painfully again. He can't even hear Dean clearly. Too big and useless and dumb and useless...  
Deep breath.

Sam lifted his head again. Watery voice coming out more pathetic then he'd hoped. Aiming for nonchalance as if Dean didn't just watch him blubber like a lost child into his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Yeah, m-fine.” Taking a few deeper calming breaths before looking down at Dean again. Feeling like he's going to burst all over again because Dean is just so damned small and worried. “M-sorry. Sorry.” he shook his head, wiped off his face again and tried so fucking hard to get under control again. “Fine. It's fine.” God it's so not fine. Nothing is fine. So _useless._

“Sam.” Dean said a bit loudly, but only because he needed to be heard. “It's ok to freak out. I did too, remember?”

Sam just shook his head at that. “I'm not allowed though. I'm supposed to be the strong one now. Take care of everything.” Lifting his splayed hands in front of himself, fingers curling. “I don't think I can. All this, power now. And I'm useless with it.”

“You think I had it all figured out?” Dean challenged, getting a little closer. “Sam, every day I am amazed at what you can do.” When Sam abruptly relaxed his legs to sit Indian style the one closest to Dean seemed to be falling out of the sky. Causing a yelp of surprise to burst out of him. Such a normal move for a person, but at this size... Every single damn thing is terrifying. “See?” he shouted up at Sam's guilt ridden eyes for seeing that reaction in Dean. Sam turned his head far away from his brother. Knees hovering between relaxed and being brought in again. Unsure which would be better. He let the down again, but much slower pace this time. Still not looking anywhere near his brother.

Dean turned the event around to be a positive one. “When you were the little, you wouldn't have flinched at all! You're stronger then me, Dude. You got this. At the risk of a total chick flick moment, I believe in you.” Walking closer to the knee that was still a few feet above ground to him. Hovering in the air in the way that buildings don't.

“Dean. I can't drive.” Sam stated with a flat tone. “I can't play pool, I can't earn us enough money to go anywhere! I can't even get us lunch!” He turned to face Dean fully and saw the tiniest flinch. Knowing all to well to have someone this big staring down at someone just 4 inches tall is frightening, even if the move is expected. Like their eyes are boring right into them. Sizing them up. Add a loud angry voice into the mix and Sam felt even worse.

Dean tried to play off the flinch like it was nothing, an aborted sneeze, soldiering on. “Actually, that you can get lunch for us right now. That's what delivery is for.” Dean waggled his eyebrows but the effect was lost on his upset brother. “Or just, bring me the phone, and I can do it.” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “My wallet was on top of the nightstand, should still be there next to my watch and the cell.”

Sam looked over and saw them sitting there before looking back down at Dean. An expression made its way onto his face that was practically begging Dean to order for them. Dean figured it out even if it was still weird as hell seeing Sam's mannerisms on a face that didn't belong to him. He put it aside and motioned for Sam to get the stuff already. “But first, turn off the water in the sink and grab the stuff I forgot up there. I was in kinda a hurry so I forgot the satchel.”

Sam nodded absently. Focusing on an easily fixable task helped him out. Baby steps. Turn off water, grab satchel then cell phone for Dean. Already he felt himself calming by small increments. Going for a teasing tone to help get him out of his funk. “What kind of respectful Borrower leaves his bag where he can't reach it?”

“What kind of respectful _Little_ would refer to himself as ' _Borrower_ '?” Dean shot back. Knowing that Sam hated that child-book label for his adoptive people.

“You're not a respectable Little, your a Borrower, since you're quite literally _borrowing_ my things.” Raising an eyebrow to resolve the dispute on that factoid.

“Touche.” Dean nodded once. “Even borrowing your body. Heh, well then you are a Borrower too since you're borrowing all my crap as well. So there.” sticking out his tongue like a respectable adult, with arms folded.

Sam rolled his eyes and made sure to land heavily onto his knees to shake the floor just a bit more then necessary as he got up and over to the stuff. Dean tried really hard to keep his cool but still felt the floor quake and groan with that. Catching his balance easier now that he's partially expecting it. He was grateful that Sam was careful, but also treading the line of treating him like a delicate glass figurine.

Gaining a bit more confidence in himself and his new stature, Sam went about turning off the water, and grabbed the satchel and draped the wash cloths over the edge of the counter to dry, as well as collecting the hook and line that had been dangling over the counter. It had been tied to the 'cold' knob for the sink since the porcelain counter offered nothing for the hook to dig into. Sam was pretty damned proud of his brother for climbing down on his own. Feeling a bit bad for the fact that Dean was practically forced to. Sam couldn't hear him over his own panic attack. He's _still_ recovering from it. Heart thumping faster then normal, but coping with it. It was just him and his brother. No one was going to judge him for it. He was about to wind up the line but figured Dean would do a better job as he bent over Dean to set the satchel at his feet, the hook a few inches away so he doesn't accidentally catch one of the hooks on Dean if he handed it over. It was so large with its three hooks when he was small, but now, it was just a little thing. Hell, he almost got it hooked into his own finger a few times when he was disentangling it from the knob. Dean nodded his thanks and waited for Sam to move back to gather them up.

Sam straightened and ignored the sight of Dean down on the floor, how tiny he looked. Always mindful of where he was, but dwelling on his size would just make him want to hold him in his hands and never let him go. Protect him from the world. Sam shook his head once to distract himself. He then carefully walked between the two beds and sat down, tying not to make the floor quake anymore then necessary. His hand reached over and picked up the phone, flipping it open with both hands since he wasn't used to doing it with one. He'd used it before plenty of times, usually with Bobby on the other end, but he had to really push hard at the buttons to dial. Now it was held in his left hand, index finger on his right punching in the phone numbers. The soft click for each one was hardly noticeable now.

He chose the local pizza place that was advertised on the laminate next to the lamp and alarm clock. He didn't care about shopping around for food, or the cheapest delivery place, he just wanted something to make his stomach shut up and more importantly, to talk to as few strangers as possible. A part of him irrationally worried that someone would be able to tell he's not supposed to be in that body or be that big. Like they'll be able to detect the supernatural taint on him and do something about it. Call cops, or the FBI or if they know any, other Hunters to take him out as if hes a skin stealing monster. Dean would have it worse is that happened, treated like a lab rat for the rest of his life if not killed right away.

Stranger danger is taking on a whole new meaning now and Sam would rather deal with as few strangers as possible. Sam had to laugh at himself for all these fears popping up that were unlikely to happen, and yet, their luck was hardly great. He took a deep breath and hit send on the cell.

 

 

 


	5. Better Call Singer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call to Bobby helps soothe some nerves.

Chapter Five:

Better Call Singer

 

 

 

Dean gathered up the bag and hook, winding the line around his hand and elbow to coil it up a bit neater this time so when or if he has to use it, it doesn't get tangled during the throw. He finds himself listening to his gigantic brother wordlessly coach himself. The fidgeting and shuffling of clothes were a bit easier to detect. The reason why showed itself when he heard his cell being used. Dean listened a bit more to Sam forcing himself to breath steadier. Maybe a bit more time was needed before doing even that level of social interaction... figured though, Sam's not used to doing any of this. Doesn't mean he's incapable, but throwing more junk at the former tiny isn't going to calm his nerves right now.

“It's ok, Sam, you don't have to...” he trailed off since Sam couldn't hear him, and jogged in a straight line to the feet that were seen from under the bed. When he got closer he shouted up, “Coming over, don't step on me,” and saw the feet shift a bit. Toes curling and uncurling self consciously through the socks. Signaling that Sam heard him, but was listening more to the other end of the call.

“Y-yes,” Sam answered without much confidence. Unused to speaking with humans other then Dean and Bobby, even if this was just a phone call. He knew he'd have to talk with either this one or another when the pizza actually arrived. “Yes. I'd like a um, medium? With meat?” a pause. Sam never really paid much attention to Dean when he ordered. Trusting his brother to take care of it. “Sausage sounds good.” nodding to himself. “Stuffed crust is the one that has cheese in the outer ring, right?” Grinning and nodding again. “Yes. Ok, I am at...” his mind went blank. He doesn't know the address of the hotel or even it's name. Asleep in Dean's pocket when they showed up a couple days ago. He leaned down and asked his brother when he finally popped into the light again from under the other bed.

Dean was a little out of breath but waved for the phone to be brought down to his level. Sam propped it up on the carpet, Dean rested a hand onto the top edge and leaned over it to speak into the microphone that's now half buried in carpet fibers. “Yeah Man, medium sausage, stuffed crust and do you have any deserts? Like pie?” He looked up at Sam and gave a winning smile. “Excellent! You have just made my day. Two slices then and we are at the Core Inn on Walker Boulevard room 122. Thanks! Oh and, the money will be outside the door, you can tell your delivery guy to just leave the pizza on the doorstep. Repeat customers if we get it in under 30 minutes.” Dean was practically bouncing on his heels as he approved the amount and tried to hang up by pressing a finger to the end button but finding out that he needed to punch it to make it move. “Lunch will be here in 25.” he announced and let the phone fall flat onto the ground. Looking at it return to the contact menu again. “Think we should call Bobby?”

Sam squirmed a bit. “If you want?”

Dean understood a bit where his bro was coming from. “It's just _Bobby_. Hell, he might actually know what did this to us.” he said confidently and using his whole hand he had to push hard at the arrow keys, going down the few contact spots to one of Bobby's numbers and hit send.

The gruff voice answered with a world weary sigh, “Hey Dean, what did you do this time?”

“Hey Bobby.” Dean flushed a bit.

“Oh, Sam!” Bobby's voice came out differently, more amiably, then shifted in accusation. “What did Dean do this time?”

“Why do you always assume I did something wrong?” Dean kicked at the phone. “It's _not_ always my fault.”

“Sam?” the question came out after a few seconds. “Sam. Where is Dean?”

“I am Dean!” he shouted a bit and composed himself. “I'm in Sam's body and he's lumbering around in mine. We got stuck in some kind of Freaky Friday bull and well, we're both kinda freaking out about it.”

There was a pause so pregnant it was about to have twins. Then Bobby's voice cursed, “Balls. This isn't a prank is it?”

“I wish it were. So, we were on this case and we were looking for this cursed object that was said to be sold after a good hoodoo lady died. Mrs. Maria Ross. She wasn't into any evil crap, most of her stuff was for protection against evil, some was for good fortune but not the kind that took from others. We didn't do an FBI grade background check on her because what we saw walking into the house showed us that if anyone present did intend to hex us or whatever, we wouldn't have made it past the front door.”

Sam piped up, “I wish we'd met Mrs. Ross when she was still alive. She seemed like a very nice lady.”

Bobby hummed at that, it was a shame they lost a potential ally in fighting the less visually obvious evils of the world. Not all monsters had flesh and bones. Ghosts and spirits can still pack a punch.

Dean continued, “So the people that called us up were her grand kids. They found out about Hunters and I guess we were the closest ones when they did their weird map search spell thing.” his hand waved about like he wasn't entirely sure now if they were on the up and up. The phone nearly toppled from his one handed grip but he gripped it in both hands again before it fell over. He went back to the story since they couldn't move forward until all of them knew where they'd been. “A few weeks after the funeral, Mrs. Ross's children finally got together to deal with her things. They were less supernaturally gifted daughters that were anxious to sell everything quick.” Dean huffed. A little upset with that. He couldn't really explain why out loud, but it had something to do with how few things they had of their own parents.

Sam had apparently built up enough courage to continue the summation of events. The voice coming out shy at first, Dean still found it weird to hear his voice coming from his gigantic little brother. “They didn't know what items were charged with what energies and didn't really bother finding out. So they auctioned off their mother's stuff in one of those open house sales. The grand kids found out about it too late and when they got there, most of the harmless stuff was sold, but there were a few that weren't so harmless. The thing we were sent to look for had gotten shuffled in with the rest of the things in the sale. The grand's could feel a lack of energies in the house and knew instantly that the things needed to be rounded up _asap_. They got the most dangerous item back, a Cookoo clock that drives people insane. Making them kill.” Sam shuddered.

Dean took over from there, “They were trying to track down everything that was sold. Both special and regular. They just knew that our mystery item had been in Mrs. Ross's work room. They assured us it wasn't evil, but it had a lot of power. When it left the house, there was a tremor that was felt, but ignored by the normal civilians. They got most of the things back, but the room was practically cleaned out during the house wide auction. They have some talent for hoodoo as well and were able to at least give us the name of the street and building it's in. They had their hands full already tracking down the other things, as well as dealing with pissed off auction winners. I offered to help track down other things, but the two said they've got it covered, but the thing we are after will be a handful by itself.” Dean paused to chuckle at the new irony. Getting back to business, “So, that's where we came in. Granted, they didn't know it was a 'we' situation at first. They called me up and found out about Sam through his aura. Some awkward convo later, and they finally promised to keep his existence a secret. Having heard rumors of small folks before, but chalking it up to Fairies without wings.”

Sam folded his arms a bit petulantly. He had good friends that were Sprites of several kinds and origins. He didn't have that level of magic in him to help him out in the world of giants. His ability to know when he's been seen as well as his slightly boosted strength helped, but he couldn't help but envy Bowman's wings that get the Wood Sprite around. He knew all to well how humans saw small people. He didn't see anything that would put him in the 'Fairy' category besides his size. It was prejudice to think _all_ tiny human-like beings were Fairies or mythical beings, hallucinations that meant the viewer had lost their mind. Sam shook his head a bit and paid closer attention to Dean summing up the hunt.

“- did some research on the building they were able to narrow it down to, which was recently bought by a patchouli smelling woman. 'Sabrina' had opened up as a store a little while ago. Fake name. She actually goes by it.” Dean rolled his eyes but no one could see the move. “So Sam and I went in and looked around. We didn't want to freak out the 'normals' while browsing the shelves of incense and trinkets and crap, so I dropped Sam off onto the shelf with the newest additions to this new age witches shop.”

“Wiccan.” Sam corrected.

“Wiccan, right. Like there's a difference.”

“There is.” Dean heard in stereo from his brother and surrogate father.

“Anywaaay...” he drew it out for attention. “So Sam said he searched the whole shelf and didn't find anything supernatural there, just the usual incense, candles, and doodahs that wit- _Wiccans_ tend to collect for ambiance. I had to distract the store owner while Sam checked out the lower shelf too and he said he found nothing at all. Everything else in there was normal regular crap found at any organic coffee bean and spice shop with some obviously mass produced jewelry with fake crystals. Nothing suspicious there.” Looking up, Sam appeared to be deep in thought. Going over all he saw there. It was a real mishmash of things that were nearly carbon copy from a dozen other shops they went to for supplies.

Dean went on, “So I took another look around and got Pint-size back into my pocket and we took off for the day. We were planning on heading back there after the store closed at 10, and we both were pretty beat, so we went for a nap in the meantime. And well, we woke up like this.” Shrugging at the phone. “Sam was in my body on my bed and I was in his in the nightstand shelf. Waking up to the earth shaking.” He looked pointedly up at Sam who blushed a bit. Waving it off as a tease. It's not like he was never accused of stomping around the place. Just the way it is.

Bobby's voice came out skeptical. “There was nothing hinky about the store owner herself?”

“No, her bestie got her into it just a year ago and the chick was obsessed with it. Started collecting anything and everything that looks old and able to collect dust and must have just added whatever she wanted to the shelves to sell. There were a few things in there that might have had some real juice in them but I couldn't get close to them without raising some alarms. They were behind the glass case she used as a work station.”

Bobby thought for a second. “Hmm.... there's no way you both could have pissed her off?”

“I don't think so. I mean, Sam wasn't even seen and I was a pure gentleman.”

Sam snickered a bit at that, saying loud enough for Bobby to hear him. “She turned down his many advances for, -” full finger quotes, “ 'Coffee' at the shop on main. Ignoring the fact that she freaking _sells_ coffee there. And he did it with that ridiculous eyebrow wiggle he does.” Doing a perfect impression of it since he's actually using Dean's face for it.

“I did not!” Dean was outraged. “My game is a hell of a lot better then yours!” Planting his feet firmly on the ground and actually sinking a bit further into the carpet fibers. Cursing under his breath at how they seemed to grip his feet like little hands when he tried to get them unstuck to stand on top again while he shouted up at Sam, “Everyone knows I'm the handsome one.”

“That's only because they don't know I exist!” Sam protested with his arms folding.

“Boys!” Bobby shouted through the phone causing Dean to jump at the volume and Sam at the tone. “So Sabrina doesn't have any juice of her own?”

Both shook their heads. “Dean was right, she seems harmless. Clueless. Whatever happened, we did it to ourselves.” He frowned at that. Thinking about the whole situation objectively. Much as Dean liked to blame witches for everything, she just wasn't naturally gifted. And Wiccans weren't into dark magics at all. She might have been able to detect Sam if she was at least a little talented. Dean had been ready for it the whole time but it never happened. Sam might as well have been a ghost.

Bobby had taken a moment to think about their story. “Ok, boys. Did you need me to come over there? Give you a hand?”

They looked at each other. Imploringly. Dean answered for the both of them. “We got this for now. If anything else happens we'll let you know. If you don't hear from us in a couple of days, assume Sam got himself arrested for acting like a crazy person in public.” Dean smirked up at him.

Sam frowned deeply at his very _very_ short older brother. “Or that Dean got himself stuck in a spider web.” He shot back. It wasn't fun for him the last time, and that had the desired effect of making Dean's eyes go wide.

Bobby cut their teasing off before it could gain any more steam. “Alright, alright. I'll do some digging myself for some kind of reversal if this is a curse or spell. But it sounds like it's a straight forward cursed object like you'd been hunting. It would be strange to have two weird things happening at the same time in the same place. But, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be on the lookout for any suspicious people or things.” he said in his usual gruff but kind voice. “When you find it, try having both of you touch it again. Maybe this is some kind of unique cursed object.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Bobby, just because we swapped bodies doesn't mean that this really is a Freaky Friday remake! Life's not a made for TV movie!”

“Just get to work, ya Idgit. Write down all the things you came in contact with there. Maybe just one of you touched it and when you put Sam back in your pocket it activated the spell with him being used as the other body. Who knows. Just. Call if something changes or doesn't change.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam said and nodded for Dean to hang up.

“Loud and clear, thanks.” Dean said and let the phone fall flat onto the carpet and put his foot down onto the 'end' button. “So. You heard him, what did you touch?”

“Me?! I didn't touch anything! All she had on those wooden shelves was crap from some Hallmark store! Nothing was over a few years old, it was just painted to _look_ old. Half of them still had their, 'Made in China' stickers on the backs.”

Dean shouted back, “Well it wasn't me because I spent my whole time distracting the patchouli soaked chick!” taking a few steps closer and shifting the weight of his bag to the other side. “It had to be you.”

Sam waved a dismissive hand at his brother. Looking up and away from him to ignore his brother's clearly false statements. Speaking towards the TV, “You know, being in your pocket, I can tell that you fiddle with everything. You can't just _not touch_ something. You always gotta _mess_ with stuff.” his gaze went back down, leaning forward a bit with his elbows on his knees to prop up his upper body. Talking down at Dean like this felt weird. “If I left you alone in a room filled with nothing but dangerous objects, I'd be surprised if you didn't end up eating one of them by the time I came back.”

“I do not!”

Sam snickered. “Mature.”

The next retort was cut off with a curt knock at the door. Sam's eyes went wide and darted at it in sudden fear. Even if the person on the other side was likely to be shorter then him since Dean was taller then most, it was still a stranger at the door. “We forgot the money!” Sam hissed at Dean who shrugged helplessly. Not like he can do anything about that now, or even _before_ the knock.

Sam reached for the wallet and opened it up, pulling out some cash and holding it up to Dean who tugged away one of the twenties and said he needed a ten instead. They'd tip, sure, but a twenty dollar tip is a bit much for a 14 dollar pizza.

Dean felt the need to be quiet even if the guy outside the door couldn't hear him. It was still unnerving to think about seeing another giant at this size when he'd only just gotten used to the one. And that's only because he knows and trusts this one. “Just keep it brief, say, 'Here ya go, thanks.' And give him the cash and take the pizza. Smile but don't overdo it.”

Sam felt a little insulted but the pep talk actually helped him deal with this. He had met strangers before but they were all his small size and he was in his own body and in a world that was vastly different to this one scaled for humans. He was out of his element in more ways then one. Sam reached for the handle and fumbled with it for a second before it turned the right way, and he opened it up to reveal the crestfallen gaze of some kid that deserves better in this life then this job.

Sam sighed in relief that it wasn't the monster or witch or whatever that got them cursed like this, come to finish the job. In hindsight, he probably should have looked through the peephole before opening up the door to an unknown person. Grateful that that little mistake wasn't a life threatening one this time. The delivery boy didn't exude an aura of menace, just plain boredom. A name tag on his greasy shirt saying in comic sans font that 'BRANDON is happy to help you!'

“So, uh, I got a medium sausage and two pie slices.” Handing it over blankly before realizing that the recipient hadn't held out their hands for the pizza or bag yet.

Sam was dumbstruck at the sight outside the door. It was just the parking lot, some decorative trees and shrubs. A minor amount of traffic and a guy out walking his two little dogs. But to Sam, it was sensory overload. Nothing was scaled right. Everything looked so small out there. For the first time, it felt attainable to him. A few steps would be all it takes to walk from the door to the Impala not far away. A ten second jog to reach the fluffy dogs to pet them. First dogs besides Rumsfeld that he could interact with without worrying about being _eaten_ by them. As if hearing Sam's thoughts, one turned its head to pant happily at him for a few seconds. Sam felt like waving to it. Ditching etiquette and playing with a strangers puppies this wonderful Thursday morning.

His heart started to beat faster from an equal mix of wonder and fear. The world had so many possibilities. Too many? Or the right amount?

“Pizza? Two pies?” the kid, Brandon, said warily. Under his breath he muttered, “Not another freak show.” Spotting the money the tall dude was holding out, frozen in place. Brandon cautiously pushed the pizza into the dude's stomach and wiggled it until the man lifted up his free hand to accept it. The kid looked at the tall spiky haired dude like he was running with half cognitive capacity. Barely aware of his surroundings, or too hyper aware. Then Brandon took the cash and nodded his head to complete the transaction. “Have a good one, Dude. And uh, lay off the psychedelics in this town. They're strict as hell on it.” And winked before turning on his heel and walking off to a beat up car.

Sam stood there. Eyes so wide they practically burned from the lack of blinks. “Dean.. it's so. It's so beautiful.”

Dean crept out of his hiding place under the bed, looking from his brother to the still open door. His take on it was far from pleasant. He shouted up to Sam, “Hey! Letting all the flies in!” To keep his tone light and joking. “I know for a fact you weren't born in a barn, Sammy. Close the door!”

“Huh?” Sam seemed like he was seeing rainbows and unicorns. “I thought this would be scary.” He said and laughed a bit. “Everything's my size.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Dean shouted and between looks outside and the jean clad tower he ran out towards the shoes. He punched at the ankle and got a minor twitch in response. “Don't make me climb you, Sasquash.” he grumbled and punched again.

Sam finally tore his gaze away from the dog walker and his nearly overwhelming urge to run out and pet the doggies. Knowing if he started, he'd end up stealing the pups. He'd give them back... eventually... probably. “Yeah?” He addressed Dean while still staring outside. Dean was now jumping repeatedly on the top of his socked foot.

“Feeling all exposed here, Godzilla! Wanna bring lunch inside?” Dean shouted up and darted his scared eyes to the colossal outside world. And Dean thought the hotel room was big... He jumped off of the foot, not wanting to be on it when Sam finally snaps out of it and moves. He jogged towards the inside part of the door and put his hands on it pointedly in front of Sam.

His gigantic younger brother finally looked at him blankly for a second before coming out of the trance he'd been in. Taking one last long look outside and sighing before adjusting the pizza and bag into his hands and closing the door with his elbow. Pushing on it with his side until he heard the latch catch. He never had to deal with doors when he was little either. Everything was practically brand new. Door knobs... that fit in one hand. Mumbling to himself what part moves first as he fumbled with the unfamiliar lock. The ones at his old hotel were old and round and didn't have the key card thing with this flat lever. He huffed at it and just put on the chain lock on instead while balancing lunch on one arm and hand.

Sam took the few steps to the table and dumped everything onto it, looking down at the floor to see Dean start walking towards it. Even from so much higher up, Sam could tell that walking or jogging everywhere was taking its toll on Dean's body.

Sam took a few steps closer and knelt to the ground, hand outstretched in front of Dean who looked at it with mild trepidation. “It's just to the tabletop.” at Dean's lack of response or movement he reminded, “I took you to the bathroom counter in these hands not one hour ago.”

“I know. I get it. It's just, that was more of an emergency situation. I didn't have time to think about it.”

“So don't think about it now. You know I'd never hurt you, Man.”

Dean frowned up at him. “Not on purpose, kid. I know, but, I've had over a year of practice with you.”

Sam just rolled his eyes at him. “Did you want to spend the rest of your life on the floor?”

A beat passed with Dean avoiding Sam's questioning gaze. “No.” Dean spat out indignantly. “It's freaking cold down here, and dirty, and it reeks, Man.”

“Sooo....? Your foods getting cold, Tom Thumb.” Sam wiggled the fingers and got the desired reaction from Dean. When he's distracted on an annoying brother, he's not worrying about other things.

Dean straightened out the satchel and took that first big step onto the fingers that twitched violently at the sensation. Sam was the one that was not ready. Dean still had one foot off of the hand and was seriously considering getting off of the hand again. But one look up and he saw the guilt plastered on that huge face overhead.

“I'm sorry, Dean.” Fingers curling a little on instinct before he noticed and straightened them abruptly again, sending Dean jerking forward onto the fingers and nearly landing flat out on the palm from the fast move. The tips of the big fingers pushed against Dean's knees a split second later from Sam's shock at making his brother trip, and sent Dean sprawling, landing flat out, face first on the fingers with his knees bent and feet flung up in the air. “Damn. Sorry. I'm sorry.” Such small moves for his fingers are like bucking bronco's to Dean. Maybe he wasn't so great at it... Sam considered turning his hand to the side so Dean slides off and Sam doesn't risk hurting him anymore. Every move Dean's making is just so ticklish, so slight feeling. Like a stiff wind would blow him away.

Laying flat on the hands gave Dean the tactile sensation of Sam's heart rate picking up and his hands trembling with growing nerves. He imagined another panic attack might be on the horizon if he doesn't do something soon. So Dean pushed up with his hands, turning around and flopping down onto his butt between the ring and middle fingers of the left hand closest to him, scooting over to be more centered and sitting as casually as he could while still gripping the thumb in front of him.

“Piece of cake!” Dean shouted instead of saying normally so that his tone wouldn't belie his feelings.

“Really?” Sam said in a voice so meek that it would break lesser men's hearts to hear.

Dean ignored the nervousness bleeding out of both of them. “Right, let's get this show on the road!” and twirled his free hand in the air and set it next to himself, surreptitiously gripping the leather ring he was partially sitting on. “I'm starved!”

 

 


	6. B-B-B-Baby You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soups on!   
> Sammy's got a gun.  
> Dean heads straight to the panic room.

Chapter Six:

B-B-B-Baby You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

 

 

 

 

Sam's grin flickered and he very _very_ slowly lifted his hands from the ground. Monitoring Dean's position and expressions carefully. When Dean usually lifted Sam from the ground, it was one fluid motion from kneeling to standing. Sam didn't think that his knees would cooperate like that just yet, despite being Dean's knees, so he resorted to an inelegant knee-walk over to the table and placed his hands up and onto the middle of the tabletop. Letting Dean get off at his own pace before slipping his hands away from him. Sam's hands itched with the residual nerves and he rubbed them at his sides a few times to get rid of it. Dean tried not to take it to heart, like Sam thought he was a dirty thing that needed to be cleaned from his hands.

Sam straightened up his body from a shudder to get rid of the creepy feelings, and finally got to his feet. In his old life, the only living things he had held up in his hands had been bugs. Normally ones he was getting rid of that managed to get inside their home under the floors. Ants, fly larva, centipedes. The worse weren't maggots like he thought it would be, but cockroaches. Fast and huge, scary looking, and hardly ever nice. Sam tried not to think about how similar holding Dean had been to some insects, especially when his brother squirmed about trying to get upright. No way in _hell_ was he going to mention that to him. He wiped off his hands again on the jeans as he stood up from his knees. A shudder running through his system he was relieved to note that Dean didn't notice.

Holding people in his hands felt as weird as Dean said it was over a year ago. He pulled out a chair and sat, waiting patiently for Dean to figure out where he wanted to be up here. Dean decided to hang out to one side, far away from any accidental movements until the pizza was out of the bag and everything set up.

Sam nodded his understanding for Dean's spot, and gave a grin to mean he wasn't taking offense to the distance. He opened up the pizza box and both of them were hit with the wonderful warm aroma. Billowing out of the box and hitting both with a ravenous desire to eat as much as possible. Sam grinned and as per usual when they ordered this meal, he took the white plastic 'table' from the center of the pizza and placed it next to Dean. Then gave his brother a napkin off to his brother's left side on the table since the tiny table was too small for the piece Sam was going to lay out. Using one of the plastic forks for the pie, he sawed and cut off a hefty portion of a slice of pizza that included part of the cheese filled crust, as well as other ingredients. It ended up being nearly as long as Dean was tall, but Sam didn't want to short Dean any toppings. The piece was precariously balanced on the plastic fork with an index finger holding up the other side of the crust. Laying it on the napkin and looking at the long trails of cheese that led back to the main pizza. Cutting them closer to Dean's slice and piling up the cheese ropes off to one side of the pizza box, taking the rest of that slice that remained in the box and its two neighbors for his own portion. He looked over to Dean's and noticed that it was missing the main ingredient, so he had to add a couple of the sausage bites to it since it probably fell off in transit. Each one was larger then Dean's head but Sam had the entire rest of the pizza to himself, so it was no big loss on his part. Besides, it was funny watching Dean looking at all that food at his feet.

Dean took and released a big breath. This was more food then he'd seen in his entire life. All in one place that was specifically for him. A happy grin spread on his face. This is enough food for a _week_! Month? Probably... if it needed to be rationed. He got down on his knees and tried to tear off part of the crust to pile up the ingredients but it was still pretty hot. So he busied himself with getting something to help him out. He tore off a bit of the napkin and thoroughly wiped off his new white plastic table, legs and all to clean it of the tomato sauce residue and oil from the sausage bites. All the times they order pizza, this was the first in months where the pizza place supplied the four legged plastic box supporter. The other ones they'd used before were lost somewhere in one of the motels. Dean would make sure this one didn't go missing once this meal was over.

Sam remembered his doll house chair was still under the nightstand so he went to fetch it for Dean who was rummaging around the bag for his own makeshift silverware. Sam had a habit of carving out forks, spoons, and knives from new wooden match sticks so he wouldn't always have to eat with his hands. Using some of the matchstick's wood as chopsticks if they split too long. Carving them all with his trusty knife when he's bored. Since he didn't have to scrounge for food anymore, he had a lot more free time on his hands. So, wood carving was done a few times if he didn't feel like watching a loud TV. Most of the time, he could only use the wooden silverware for a couple of meals before they absorbed too much of the liquid parts of his food in its wooden fibers. Then no matter what he ate, it would taste like the previous meals. Yuck.

Dean liked food that could be considered 'mushy' sometimes, needing utensils over other finger foods, while Sam had grown up on crumbs that didn't need silverware at all. Some accommodations had to be made and Dean crowed with triumph at finally finding a wooden fork and the aluminum foil plate. The silver knife went to work cutting up the thick crust and forming his own sized pizza from the cooked bread and cheese with the sauce poured on and the sausage crumbled up on top. Clearly he'd been thinking about doing this before, but would never tell Sam how to eat his own pizza. If Sam wanted to just dig in as is, then that's his right.

Sam liked tasting one ingredient at a time, savoring the freshness, before mixing and matching. That way, if he didn't like mushy red peppers for instance, he didn't spoil the taste of the tomato it was combined with. Spices were in a similar vein, trying them each out before adding them to his meals. He decided that he liked the purity of fresh vegetables with a bit of ranch to dip in. Too many large spices, like peppercorns the size of baseballs, or oregano, which was like eating pencil thick twigs to people his size, were not very practical. So he stuck with the basics that practically dissolved into the food, or were minced down far enough like a fine powder.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at the care Dean took into preparing his food and looked at his slices before him. Pizza was so much easier to eat when you're human. But something was missing. “Crap, I forgot the drinks.”

“Water's fine.” Dean said from the corner of his mouth. Sam got up, pushing against the table and making Dean nearly fall out of his chair. The white plastic table moving a half inch back then forth. Sam didn't even notice as he walked to the sink and got a cup of water for them both. Dean decided it wasn't worth mentioning. Sam's trying his best.

They both ate their fill and Sam pulled out both slices of pie, even though he knew Dean couldn't eat one by himself, it felt wrong to deny his brother this dream come true. Dean was so full he took a few tries to get up and over to his slice. “Oh Baby, come to Daddy.” He cooed and nearly walked into the slice itself.

“You trash my clothes with that and you're making me a new set. That means De-threading the scraps of fabric and weaving it into the perfectly sized and shaped sheet of new fabric, that you then have to sew together the right way or else look like a dressed up paper doll.” Sam warned and used a napkin to wipe off his face. “And I wont show you how.”

Dean make a hand puppet that snipped back, dripping with sarcastic sounds, “Neninemmeneenemeeeuuu.” And took off the shirt at least, confident he wont get the pants dirty. Raising his hands to the side and turning around for inspection in a move dripping with sarcasm, he dug in with his bare hands. Forks would just slow him down. He theatrically sank to his knees in front of the slice of chocolate cream pie, and moaned at how delicious and beautiful it all was. Life was wonderful. Dean caressed the whipped topping like a lover and licked his fingers of the fluff, eyes fluttering.

Sam laughed at the tiny antics and finished up his delicious slice. It's so much better when he can eat crust and filling in one bite like this, instead of his usual method. Dipping the crust in it like a fist thick graham cracker into the filling so heavy with sugar crystals that they crunched when he bites down. Sweets always had big chunks of sugar that distracts him from the overall taste. It's why he prefers to go with vegetables and simple foods without all the ingredients. Taking his time to savor each sweet ingredient and maybe a few combinations but any more then three in his mouth at a time was a real mouth full. Sugar melted after a few seconds in his mouth, and that was part of the reason why it took him so long to eat any candies. The other part being the energy boost he'd get that makes him feel like a hummingbird if he ate too much. It had nothing to do with his changed physiology, and nearly everything to do with the fact that the little folks just didn't have sugar on a daily basis.

Sweets were always a rarity in his life before, and were jealously treasured. Lasting longer then perishable foods due to the sugars and preservatives, his little family kept them as long as they could. Needing the sugary energy boost if they were out of regular food, to hunt for more. Around Christmas time is when they'd stock up on those sugary 'grandma' old fashioned hard candies from the lobby that absolutely _none_ of the guests ate, but the small folk did. Making the managers think that their guests loved the cheap hard candies enough to buy more and keep the candy dishes stocked. The little families planned out when they'd take one or two of the candies so that it wasn't noticed too much. After the holidays, the managers would sometimes toss the rest in a plastic baggie with the cheap holiday decorations, since they never expire, and that's where they were retrieved again by all the families. Getting rid of the evidence that the candies were ever there so that the new humans that decorate the place would forget they had some stored12 months ago. They'd just buy more for the lobby and the cycle would start again. Every once in awhile, the motel would get a new receptionist that would be ambitious enough to get better name brand candies and they were usually gone before the little folks had a chance to get at them.

When he was 14, and in the middle of a growth spurt, Sam once did a candy stake out with Krissy, his old neighbor. Together they snagged a fun sized Snickers bar wrapped up in colorful foil. Running on pure adrenaline, they managed to push and shove it under the door before the receptionist had returned to his station after a complaint to fix a sink. Sam made quick work sawing it in half with his knife and Krissy's metal pins, scissoring and stabbing down deep to help separate the semi-hard caramel and peanuts inside. Using a lever action to cut it in half. The two teens worked up a sweat hauling their loot back to their homes after having a good celebratory chunk of the outer chocolate. The parental scoldings they each got from their families was _totally_ worth it. That piece lasted a _week and a half_. The size equivalent to half a coffee table. For years afterwards, Sam would suggest another stakeout with Walt, but his father wasn't having any of that nonsense. Besides, Christmas was a great time of year for every little person, since that meant more people passing through the hotels on their way to big family get togethers. Usually bringing homemade cupcakes, delicacies, or food that would drop plenty of crumbs on the tables. Far safer then a front desk that was nearly constantly manned by vigilant giants.

Sam hated those yearly Grandma hard candies, all tasting like licorice, therefore _dirt_ , no matter what color they were on the outside. So he was eternally grateful to have a big brother again that would get him M&M's and better tasting candies. Ones that he didn't have to swing a club to break off sharp pieces small enough to eat. As Dean found out with the pizza, and now pie, some things just taste differently when you're not in the customer demographic that the candy stores were catering to. Dean examined each handful after that first one and Sam could see him trying to figure out why it was crunchy when it looked like thick chocolate cream. Poking at it with his fingers and spreading out on his palm.

“That's the sugar.” Sam informed and got a shocked expression back. “Let it melt in your mouth for a second with each bite, it should break down better.”

“Thanks.” Dean said and it did taste better when he swished each bite around. Something he never considered before was how different food tastes at this size. Even the sausage had chunks of fat mixed in with the meat. A human wouldn't be able to detect it, but at this size it was like marbles of fat and strings of meat. Even when granulated into the sausage. He found himself playing with the food far longer then he thought he would. Wondering what else was just _different_ as hell. Remembering when he'd given Sam an orange slice and watching his brother peel off one tiny sliver of juice filled thing at a time. Like organic juice packs that were in eatable tubes that were sealed at both ends and bulged in the middle. Easy to avoid the pulp like that.

“Pizza. Is. _Delicious_.” Sam stated as he nibbled on one of the few remaining slices. Surprised at how much he put away before really thinking about it.

“Pace yourself, that might need to be dinner as well.” Dean stated and asked, “How much was left in my wallet?”

Sam wiped his mouth and got up again, strolling over to the wallet and flipping through it. “47, and some credit cards.”

“Yeah, the cards might be maxed out soon. We need to get to that Wiccan's store again and figure this out before we run out of cash.”

Sam nodded and took the two remaining slices of pizza and carefully wrapped them up in the unfolded napkins, as if he was going to pack it away in his bag before catching himself checking his hip for the missing satchel. Sheepishly avoiding the chuckle from the table as he put it back in the box. “You done with your pizza slice?” He asked, reaching for it. Dean jumped clear and was about to protest when the sight of the huge hand descending around it stilled his tongue. Nodding dumbly as he watched the hand snatch up his leftover pizza that hardly had a dent missing from it. Sam wrapped it up in another napkin and put it on the other side of the pizza box then went back for the Dean's pie next, which was far bigger then his older brother. Lifting it up like it was nothing. That too got put away in the box on 'Dean's side' and then set into the half sized fridge. He felt good having leftovers to come back to. A full stomach was also quite nice, making it easier to tackle the strange day. One problem down.

Sam left Dean on the table to wash up with his cup of water, and the last napkin. Watching him for a second once he wasn't looming overhead since his brother was facing the other way. Dean seemed fine by himself there for a minute or two. The feeling of needing to protect Dean was one he knew wasn't going to go away any time soon. So he shook his head and went over to the nightstand, putting the watch on after fumbling with the buckle strap a few times, and then the cell phone into one of the pants pockets, remembering where Dean likes to keep everything. The wallet was stored next in his right hand pants pocket, and he donned another flannel over the simple pocket t-shirt and finally the leather jacket. No need to get out anything fancier since they weren't doing interviews today. Thank God.

He was getting excited again at the thought of going outside. Maybe the guy walking his dogs would be on the return trip? Sam smirked at himself, berating his childlike wonder and giddiness. His hopeful desire stuck around, however, and he'd just have to pretend to act like a normal person. Knowing that if he zones out again, that Dean should be right there to bring him back to the task at hand. Looking forward to the excursion more and more and praying that Dean stays as calm and collected as he is now in the safety of the motel room. Well, relative safety. So long as he lets Sam know where he is at all times and if he needs help.

Sam stepped up to the table and waited for Dean to tell him what he wanted to do. Where to go first. Fully expecting Dean to hop up on the hand that he laid out next to him.

Dean dried off his face and rubbed the coarse paper fabric across his chest to get any lingering food particles. A blush too small for Sam to notice, he hoped. He had gotten a bit exuberant in his pie exploration and had a few bits of cream on himself. He felt that tingle in his neck and looked up to see Sam coming closer. The floor shaking with increasing tremors. His leather jacket looked pretty bad ass from down here. Better then a mirror since he's seeing his body in it in different angles. When Sam stood next to the table however, that runway walk ended with an intimidating sight. That huge hand came forward and Dean could not miss that gleam in those green eyes if he tried. Clearly, Sam wanted to go out and play. Sam didn't even have to say it in words, if he'd had a tail, it would be wagging.

Dean raised his voice, “Chill out, we will get there, you devilishly _handsome_ individual,” smirking at his own self serving joke and the green eyes rolling on his face above. Sam was probably just pissy he didn't think of the joke first. “But first, you're going to have a crash course in handling guns.”

Sam deflated a bit, fingers curling in uncertainly. “What?”

“I'm not taking you anywhere till you're able to defend yourself, and me.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes yet again, but knew that was not what he promised Dean earlier, they will talk everything through before doing anything. He turned his hand over and made a loose fist to rest on the table instead. “What did you want me to do?”

Dean easily slipped into teacher mode and started the lesson. It was one he'd never done in detail before, not really, since the gun was basically useless to his tiny four inch tall brother. There was no way Sam could pull the trigger or cock the hammer back on his own to take out a bad guy. He _might_ be able to put the safety on, but that was it. It just might be enough one future day, and it didn't hurt to show Sam the basics. If the bad guy was armed as well, and their gun ever flew away from the fight, Sam could put the safety on to distract the bad guy long enough for Dean to get the upper hand. Hunters had to utilize every advantage they could take, and Sam knowing how guns work was just as important as which runes to draw in a protection sigil.

Dean pointed out the guns current location and started with a no-nonsense tone. “It's actually loaded right now but the safety is on. Before you even pick it up, let me go over the rules.”

Sam wanted to correct Dean on his knowledge of guns and rifles but figured a refresher course couldn't hurt. After all, it's not like he handled guns when he was a kid, and Dean's were bigger then his bed and desk combined. Heavier then all of Sam's belongings, _and himself,_ put together. It wasn't cheap either. His favorite nickle plated handgun went for about 2 grand for the pearl handled custom engraved pistol. Of course, the Colt M1911A1 is not overly rare, but when he'd seen it at the pawn shop, he had to have it. She was a thing of beauty.

Dean pointed over to it again and instructed Sam how to hold it, using the fork from his lunch as a prop. Informing him to always aim it away from people or things that didn't need an extra hole in it. Aiming it at the floor or ceiling at all times unless he's ready to fire it at the monsters or bad guys and there's no civilians around. The gun was brought over with as much care as everything Sam handled and he laid it on the table. Dean walked around it and pointed out all the parts and pantomimed how to load and unload it. Sam unloaded it first for most of the lessons. Learning how to aim it, how much pressure it takes to cock the hammer back, and for the trigger itself so it doesn't go off on accident. The lessons went on for a good half hour with Dean berating him every time the barrel drifted down at the table. Looking down the barrel of his own gun was one more experience he didn't wish to remember.

Dean is finally satisfied that the basics were covered, how Sam should stand solidly still, with it held out. And Sam brought over a book at Dean's insistence to show his younger brother how to enter a room from beyond a wall with the gun. It was pretty entertaining to watch the tiny man pretend there were monsters around the corners of the book and laptop. Sam practiced with a finger gun in and out of the bathroom and getting corrected until he got it right. Sam was already an expert and sneaking around, his life depending on it day to day, but now he'd have to confront the bad guys head on with unfamiliar weapons. Dean didn't expect there to be any trouble, but they needed to be ready for it all the same. It was a good thing that Dean still had his knife that was the precursor to Sam's trusted knife. So Sam had at least one familiar weapon on him, even if it was slightly different and rougher made. It made him feel more confident as the hours ticked by.

With that thoroughly finished, and the day wasting, they decide to head out back towards the Wiccan's shop. Sam pockets the room card key and double checks around the place to see if he missed something. Figuring he's got it all stowed away, all that's left is to figure out what happens with the shorter hunter. There was no way that Dean was going to let Sam go to the dangerous store by himself. The kid had trouble interacting with the dang pizza boy.

“Sammy? I think it would be in everyone's best interest, if we take this slow. Both of us.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that.

“I mean...” Dean trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm not used to seeing giants anymore then you're used to all this.” Arms spread out towards the front door. “Till we get out sea legs, I think we should take a walk first. Somewhere quiet and get used to this new dynamic we've got, but in move it to public spaces. You need to get the stars out of your eyes and I need to... to get this fear that's bubbling up inside my guts to go the fuck away.”

Sam looked down in a mix of pity and shock. “I'd never let anything happen to you.”

“I know that Pint size, I'm just saying, we gotta get our heads on straight before we confront a potential disaster at that shop.”

Sam nodded along. He turned and walked to the curtains and flung them open. Hearing Dean curse and dive for cover behind the laptop. Sam stared at the world outside and tried to picture being out in it. The motel they were at was on a quiet street and Sam was a little disappointed to see no more dog walkers out. He did frown at the amount of crows outside though. Sending a glance behind him to see Dean peek out from behind the book.

“The hell are you doing?!” Dean shouted over. Once he got over the initial shock.

“Training wheels.” Sam said and strode back to the table. “So, how did you uh, want to... umm.” His hand coming down again to lay out flat, palm side up. No twitching at all with how forceful it's being pressed into the wooden table.

Dean hung his head dramatically. “Whichever pocket you like to travel in most, I guess I'll go in that one.” Sighing in resignation. This will be such a new and potentially scary chapter in this screwed up Wonderland, that any comfort he could find was welcomed.

“I like, uh, this one.” Sam said and pointed to the inner flannel shirt's pocket. “Some padding on both sides. I don't know if you want to hear my heart beating or my breathing. It uh, can possibly be intimidating?”

Dean didn't know what to say to that. Had he been subjecting his brother to this without his consent?

“I like the inner t-shirt one sometimes _for_ that reason, but I don't know what you like. The heartbeat is kinda, I dunno, nice. Lets me know you're ok and an early warning if you're not. Most of the time, it's relaxing.”

Oh, well that's different then. Dean grinned, glad that Sam found some comfort there. “That sounds good.” He said and saw a shy smile creep into Sam's face. Dean climbed up onto the hand on his much smaller hands and knees this time so he wouldn't trip, giving a thumbs up for the hand to start moving. The short hunter watched as the jacket was pulled aside and the curtain of it envelope his entire sight as the hand went into it. Sam sensed his brother's tension grow suddenly when Dean leaned back from the darkness, and wondered how many more times are they going to do this dance of hesitation around each other? He slowed his movements even more and opened up the pocket wide for his brother, letting him figure out how he wants to climb in now that the hand he's on is right along side it. No possibility of Dean falling down the other way now that Sam's other fingers are curled up like a bowl behind Dean.

“Just, I guess, put me in there, I don't like the feeling of free falling even if it's just a few feet into darkness. I mean, I know there's no hole but it's like when your going downstairs and you've got that one extra step at the bottom you weren't expecting and your life flashes before your eyes as your foot keeps going down.”

There was a pause. “What?”

Of course, Sam hasn't used regular human stairs for over a decade. Let alone often enough to take the jaunt down steps for granted. Something that is so common for humans it's taken for granted that stairs will be there at the right heights and able to support anyone using them. Sure, there's plenty of things Sam does on a daily that Dean doesn't have to. Climbing the fishing line straight up with little or no help, climbing bedspreads, furniture, hell even climbing his brother, to get anywhere at all for starters. Dean has no experiences like that.

“Just put me in.” Dean sighed. He moved his body from his crouching sit, into a push-up so his body is easier to grab. Every new instinct cursing him out because he's purposefully putting himself in this position. He felt huge fingers curling around him securely and making him feel so damned helpless for the few seconds. Sam angled his fingers so that Dean was held upright again, and then moved over the pocket. Dean felt helpless and vulnerable for those few seconds that felt like minutes that it took to get him from palm to pocket. Sam loosened his fingers incrementally, calculatingly, to let Dean slowly slide down in, while also opening up the fingers on the upper side so Dean could still see out of the loose fist. Reducing the feeling of claustrophobia and helplessness. Sam felt Dean's hands against his palm and ring finger, guiding himself down as well which was reassuring for Sam as well. Dean isn't too scared to move and plan. So Sam kept on lowering him down until his feet touched the hammocky bottom. Dean laughed at the sensation and the fact that he didn't fall, Sam didn't freak out, and this isn't as bad as he thought it would be. He tapped at the fingers, indicating that it was safe for them to retreat. He had trouble standing with the swaying bottom so he put his hands on either side to help stabilize himself. Figuring that that would only be successful for .02 seconds. The fingers holding the pocket open widened it so Sam could look inside.

“Whoa.” Sam breathed.

“You're telling me.” Dean agreed. “This is what you see? The ceiling and the bottom of my face?”

“Pretty much. You can thread your fingers through the fabric to help stay steady. I've made a few peek holes in your shirts to be able to see, but with all the shifting from walking and stuff, I'm afraid you wont be able to see out with so many layers on.” Sam's voice rumbled the air around him even more then usual, the chest behind Dean's back vibrating him to his core even if Sam's been keeping it soft. Grateful for the quieter voice then before. Since Sam had spent the last year shouting to be heard, he'd simply forgets to keep it down. At least his younger brother was adapting pretty quickly to all this. And giving helpful pointers. It was really too bad that Dean couldn't really do the same. There was no way he would be hanging out on the shoulder in the collar. Too freakin' _high_. Too unstable and freaking terrifying.

Sam's hand came up from the outside, brushing down the pocket and feeling the small body startle at the unexpected movement. Dean gave a pat back, letting him know that he's alright and appreciates the gesture. Sam buttoned up the over shirt, adding a layer between the t-shirt and the jacket. It wasn't really cold out, but knew that Dean probably didn't want to risk being seen _at all_. It could get too stifling if he closed the jacket as well but he did use a few buttons to keep it from slapping his sides. Knowing first hand the constant thumps from outside that can wear on his patience.

Sam double checked his other pockets and reminded himself to pack Dean's handgun behind his pants and the silver knife that was his old one's prototype. It being a faintly familiar weight in his hands, and a good object to ground him in reality. Especially when every moment since waking up, felt surreal and unsettling.

“Ok, here goes.” Sam took and held a breath and opened up the door. The same sight as before but the light had changed a bit, heading more into the afternoon hours. More traffic, on the road as well as foot traffic on cracked sidewalks. Dean felt the heart pick up again and breathing quicken. He had to punch the chest behind him to bring Sam back to task. “Right. Ok.” Sam stood there, just breathing for a second. Checking his pockets yet again for the room key, the Impala's keys, his wallet, gun, knife, lighter, salt pouch and lock pick set which Dean always kept in a hidden pocket along with other things they might need in a pinch.

He took a step outside and felt the breeze on his skin and felt himself relax a bit. Closing the door behind him and making sure it was locked tight and the do not disturb sign remained secured, straight, and legible. Knowing that he's stalling a bit but thankfully not getting called out on it. Dean couldn't make out too much from his spot anyway so he was more or less, along for the ride. Sam was initially going for nonchalance, but was really surveying the area for any suspicious activity. A smoker from one of the rooms down the way nodded in his direction and he awkwardly waved back.

“Who's that?” Dean asked and Sam startled a little, hand going to his chest pocket to pat it and make sure his brother was still hidden. “Get your hand down!” Dean hissed. “We don't want to bring attention to me right?”

Sam held a breath and lowered his hand after 'checking' the other pockets and waving the room key at the smoker who raised her head a bit to acknowledge his attention, but then turned pointedly away to blow smoke out. She didn't face him again and he was half grateful and embarrassed by that. Thus ending human interaction number two. So far so good. He mumbled to himself, “Calm down.” however, his passenger heard and thought he was being addressed instead.

“I am calm.” Dean retorted but Sam could hear the hint of a lie in that statement. At least he's not alone.

Sam went to the Impala first, something familiar even if the black classic car was much smaller then the last time he'd seen it. It was still 18 feet long, and held innumerable fond memories. Replaying half forgotten memories of the two of them sitting in the backseat, playing games or watching the landscapes fly by. He and Dean grew up in this car and now it looked like it was waiting for him to climb on in. With a light touch, he grazed his fingers along her hood, trailing up the smooth unmarked metal to the roof and peering inside. Dean, as predicted, forbade him from driving unless it was absolutely necessary, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to look and touch.

“The car is so, she's beautiful, Dean.” Sam said aloud for his brother's benefit. “I'm just going to sit in it for a second.” And fumbled with the keys for a minute. Frowning at them then held the pocket open and dangled them a little bit inside. “Which one opens doors and which one's ignition?”

Dean stared at the heavy metal key slabs for a second. Each key was nearly half as long as he was tall. The long bullet key chain went from his feet to his shoulders. The tiny nicks and cuts in the metal made him pause. Everything had such detail to them that he simply couldn't see before. Snapping out of his musing, he grabbed the door one, shaking it repeatedly for Sam. Shocked a little that he could even move something that should be pretty heavy. Remembering that 'Littles' were stronger then they should be, otherwise they'd be unable to survive in this over-sized world. Dean then tapped the ignition key and shook his head violently with a cut throat motion with his other hand. No driving Baby.

“I'm not gonna drive, I just want inside.” Sam huffed and used the key to unlock the driver's side. The familiar creak of the door wasn't so loud for him but he felt the jolt inside his pocket at the sound. Dean had flinched all the way to the bottom of the pocket and cursed. Sam slid inside a little awkwardly and sat down in the seat, hands going to the wheel after the door was slammed shut. He looked around at the dash and fingers trailed over everything to prove to himself that it's real. “Did you want to see?” He asked even as he was reaching for the pocket with both hands, one opening it and the other dropping a couple fingers inside.

“Gahh!” Dean yelped at the sudden intrusion into his warm space and pushed himself back from the huge fingers. Sam paused for a second, retreating them to the other side.

“I'm not going to grab you.” Sam said earnestly. “I'm just doing the same that you do to help me out.” Trying to see inside the pocket but finding it too dark to make out Dean's face very well. “There's no one around now, it's safe.”

Dean took that as the innocent suggestion it was, and stepped up towards the crooked fingers, standing on the bent tips that were curled inward and pulled into the light. Sam angled his hand to be more of a platform but Dean caught one of the fingers to stay right there beside him as a rail. Sam brought his brother to his chest then watched him look at the dash as well.

“Did you want on the floor to check out the panic room you built?” Sam offered and lowered his hand a bit.

“Sure.” Dean said, getting over his fears a bit at a time. Sam was being so great asking for his opinion first and listening to Dean, even if Dean doesn't voice his thoughts. Them spending so much time together had made them practically mind readers. He let go of the finger when it was apparent that it was hard to hold that hand position like that for the whole trip down. The denim leg growing in size as he was lowered down along side it. Between the legs that bent outward a bit because even though this was Sam sitting there, it was Dean's bowlegs and he had to concede that yes, he did have them. Shut up. The shoes came into view and he heard Sam bump his head into the steering wheel. Dean jumped down the rest of the way and gave a thumbs up to Sam before walking under the bench seat.

The panic room was under the driver's seat and he entered it though the secret doors. Pride filling him up at his work that blended in pretty well to the surroundings under the seat. The room itself was a little haphazard, the things shifting with the car's turns and brakes. But, from what he could tell, it was all accounted for. Dean could see in the very dim light, that Sam started storing his personal belongings in the room, using it for more then just emergencies. One of Dean's discarded FBI badges with his image on it from years ago. Dean lost it but he guessed Sam found it and brought it in here. It had a place on one of the walls like one would display a family photo. Dean felt a warm fuzzy in his chest at that, and vowed to get a few more picture of their rag tag family in here. He'd have to do it a bit on the sly, since he wanted Sam to have them without it being a gross chick-flicky moment. It wouldn't hurt to have a picture of the two of them for himself either. Hell, he didn't own a single photo of Sam. He'd like something he could have in his wallet, just for himself if no one else. Dean was already figuring out the logistics of taking a picture with the two of them without it being obvious that Sam was only four inches tall. Maybe some kind of forced perspective... or cut and paste using the computer.

A few scraps of papers with some writing on it that looked like notes on a few of their old cases were on another wall. Things crossed off or corrected. Recognizing a couple of the hunts as he flipped though the sheets. A key chain hung flashlight from the ceiling so the nerd could read at night, along with the replacement batteries tucked in part of the metal supports for the seat above. Sam had gotten some string or thread and had tied them up like a web to hold a few things in a more secured way. Compared to Dean's current stature, there was a rather large bag of trail mix with the words, 'travel size' written in bold. About seven inches long, it must have taken Sam ages to drag it in here. Dean always kept them on hand in case they met any more small people, and didn't notice that Sam snagged one for himself and whoever else he might have in this panic room. After all, half of the hunts they were on lately involved smaller people of all kinds. Sam clearly wanted to be a good host. The bag had M&M's in with the peanuts, raisins, and sunflower seeds, and Dean grinned at the mental image of Sam resisting the urge to open it up and grab one of the candy coated chocolates. Alas, his will was strong, because the bag was still unopened and tied into a corner. Emergency rations that could last Sam for a month. Dean saw a number of prepackaged moist towelettes and considered how useful it would be. Sam must have stashed them away from the KFC bags. No water though... he'll have to fix that. They sell small water bottles that are only four inches tall, and if Sam used his knife, he could probably cut through the clear plastic to get at it without wasting a drop to jostling car turns. The lid would be too hard for him to twist off and on, so the smaller the opening, the better.

There were scraps of fabric that were tied together in a nest like shape against one wall, securing it down so the bed wouldn't shift around no matter how sharp Dean turned. Besides the things that shifted from driving, it was pretty tidy and organized in that room. Dean was impressed and proud of his little brother. He could hear the big guy shifting around in the seat over his head. Probably nervous for how big bro is judging his 'pad'. Dean gathered up the papers that had gone flying and tucked them behind a few of the wall threads. He turned to leave but saw the bed... he had to try it out. A running start had him airborne for a second before landing in the pile of fluffy fabrics. Half of them fleece so the static cling got to him nearly immediately. He chuckled and buried himself under the flannel and bits of fabrics. So warm and comfy. Hell, he's going to make a fabric nest out of all of the motel beds. Why not? It's not like Sam would make fun of him for it. Maybe it wasn't so bad being little.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if I wasn't busy enough... I'm starting yet another fanfic. A crossover between Dragon!Dean and the Brothers Apart universe with Borrower Sam, Human Dean and guest starring Oscar, the shortest, most timid borrower that lives at the Knights Inn.  
>  Blame Nightmares06 for the plot bunny. Just *had* to mention a dragon Dean in her fic!  
>  So! With that added to the mix, updates on all stories will probably be even longer, but I assure you, I wont abandon any of them. You're getting more content, eventually. My taxi job is currently being a pain in the butt at the moment, and it's hard finding any free time...  
>  so of course my brain's like - 'start a new fic.'  
>  me - 'why? I'm so busy as it is!'  
>  brain - 'you gotta.'  
>  me - 'shit you're right.'
> 
> oh! one more important thing, my best friend just started uploading his story onto Archive and is sad no one is reading his amazing work! Go show him some love please! It will make us very happy :) I've convinced him to write some tiny spn so you'll thank me later! lol. If that fanfic is half as good as this original story... well, check it out and see for yourself! http://archiveofourown.org/works/9795470


	7. Somebody Holds the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy's first driving lessons!

Chapter Seven:

Somebody Holds the Key

 

 

 

Inside the panic room under the Impala, Dean was on the verge of falling asleep in the scrap fabric nest bed, when he heard a key entering the Impala's ignition. “Oh _hell_ no.” He muttered and had some difficulty getting out of the bed again and stomping to the exit. Sam's obnoxiously long bangs kept getting in Dean's eyes and he swiped at them for the fiftieth time since waking up that morning. The only thing keeping him from shearing the hair is the fact that his gigantic little brother probably wouldn't take it with stride. So, Dean had to deal with the curtain of bangs. But one thing he would _not_ take lightly is Sam, who has never driven before in his life, screwing up his classic Baby.

He strode angrily into the light just as Sam turned the key with too much force, and it ground gears at him. Dean stumbled at the loud snarl the engine blasted out. Sam frowned and tried again, more deafening whines and the car jumped a few times. Dean tried to stay on his feet as he ran out a little ways, waving his arms for attention. “Stop! You'll screw up the starter!” Sam let up and looked down at Dean who was coming into better view. “You have to slow it down a bit and give it some gas right when you're turning the key.” Dean was kicking himself for not fixing up Baby at the first sign of distress, but they had bigger things on their hands at the time and it had slipped his mind when this case came up.

Sam looked down and studied Dean's expression. Seems as his brother was ok with him starting her up at least. The urge to do so simply wouldn't leave him alone. Giddy with the desires and memories that came back from when he was a kid sitting on their Dad's lap when driving down a particularly long boring stretch of road. Small pudgy hands on top of the wheel with John's much larger ones underneath, course correcting before they went off the road. Dean had a grin ear to ear, waiting patiently for his own turn 'driving'. John muttered encouragements and sometimes wry commentary on Sam going into drag races with how fast he's driving. Ignoring the fact that young Sam couldn't reach the gas or brake pedals. On reflection, Sam felt a little bad for kicking his dad's legs trying to make the car go faster as if that was how it worked. John took the minor torment his shins were receiving, enjoying both his son's excitement. Moments like that were precious to Sam when he was growing up, before he knew about the supernatural world, it was all road trips and car games as far as he knew. He let the memory and feel of the wheel under his hands come back to him and he grinned widely.

Dean looked a bit nervous, but so long as he wasn't outright opposing this... Sam nodded at the instructions, completely acquiescence to the order and looked at the pedals for a second. He didn't mention that he is having so many brain farts today since his whole world flipped upside down. Looking at everything in a new light actually made him forget for a second which one was gas which was brake. Accidentally going to the brake first since it was right in the middle of the foot well, so it was obviously very important, but ground the gears again. Muttering a sheepish apology he tried again and hit the gas. The Impala roared to life and the engine revved loud and _long_.

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly as if he was expecting it to take off. Hearing his brother shouting obscenities at him. Making out the words “Let off the gas! A pinch of gas is all you needed! A _pinch._ Don't flood it, just a quick tap next time! Get your foot off the Gas!!” In the middle of the cursing tirade so Sam lifted his foot and the engine slowed down to the rumbling purr in idle.

Sam gingerly took his hands off the wheel since it wasn't going anywhere and toothily grinned down at Dean who had his hands on his hips, glowering far up at him. Sam's wide grin faded a bit. “It's running now.” He informed needlessly and looked at the dashboard. Avoiding his brother's glare, heat rising to his cheeks.

Dean rubbed his hand over his eyes and down his borrowed face, irritated at the long bangs that went with. His hands brushed the long bangs aside _again_ and growled at everything. The cloth bag at his side shifted and the hook poked his leg a bit. He angled it a bit better so he wouldn't end up with it skewering his leg if he landed on it. Aiming the sharp barbs down towards the bag. Trying to give himself a bit of time to calm himself. Maybe it was a mistake to allow his brother to start it... but he looks so damned happy. But it's _Baby_ and that wasn't subtle _._.. “Sam. What did I say about the car?”

“Not to drive. I'm not driving.” He shrugged and lowered his hand to Dean who got on with the sole intent of gaining the height needed in slapping his brother's face. He never got close enough once Sam saw the budding rage in his tiny face. “Something wrong?”

“Something wrong? He's asking if something's wrong.” Dean muttered, turning away for a second to compose himself. Turning back around. “No Sam. It's all good. You just alerted everyone within two blocks that you don't know how to start a car... that you're inside. They are certainly not going to suspect that the reason you don't know how to work it is because you might be stealing this car. No way. No confusion there. Especially if they do a plate search and find that this car is registered to a _dead_ man. Which just so happens to look like, well, let's see, YOU!!” Dean kicked at the finger closest and went into a crouch when the hand twitched, grabbing the next nearest finger so he wouldn't fall off.

Sam's face went into several different expressions before looking up in dawning horror at any person within eyesight. “ _Shit._ ”

“Low profile, Dude.” Dean finished, half pleading, and sighed. “It's fine. Just, turn it off and pretend you're on the phone.”

“I fucked up.” Sam's eyes were wide and his fear started to escalate. “I fucked up I fucked up oh shit... I'm going to jail. They're going to put me in jail. Behind bars. Trapped. In a cage. In jail. Fuckfuck fucking shit.”

“Whoa. Curse much?” Dean wanted to laugh it off, that he wasn't all that pissed at the engine revving. “It's fine Sammy. Whoa!” His body felt like it was falling when Sam's hand dropped down a couple inches. “Sam! I was fucking with you! It's fine!”

Sam's hands were quivering, gaze still darting all around. Ears trained for the police sirens that are sure to come and take him away and take Dean away and he fucked it all up and -

“Sam! Look at me!” Dean shouted, gripping the finger for all he's got since its bouncing him around like an amusement park ride. “Sammy! Breath!”

Green eyes finally sought out the voice and he looked down at his hands where Dean was cupped and trembling. Thinking that it's Dean doing the trembling he brought his hands up and realized it was himself doing it. His breaths were still coming in fast and shallow. When did he get so nervous? Having so many panic attacks? Even studying this new revelation didn't cease their actions. His chest could barely keep up with the breaths. Sam took a deep one and held it for a moment, willing his system to reset to zero so it can start again.

Dean found his platform go a bit more stable and he risked letting go with his right hand. Lowering it down as he said, “No, Sammy, don't hold it, _breath_. Calm down there, Dude. Just breath for me. In.... and out.... do it with me.” His hand went up to his head and lowered to his knees, and rotated back up to his head with the over emphasized breaths. “In … and out... There ya go.”

Sam followed along as best he could. Feeling flushed and dizzy. But breathing better now that he's got a tiny template to work alongside. He nodded along, letting Dean know he's listening and grateful. His hands raising Dean up and down along with his breaths, but it didn't look like it was ticking his older brother off with the movements. It must still feel like flying and falling for him so Sam held a short breath long enough to steady himself and raised his hands to the steering wheel column. Dean found the two hands splitting down the center under his feet and gripped onto the nearest finger tightly, shooting up a frightened look at Sam who looked below, nodding at the place below his hands a few times and Dean realized the reason why the steering wheel was now arching overhead, and where Sam was putting him. He stepped down and went into a squat on the wide metal column and turned his head to see the three main big circular displays. A turn of his head to his right side showed the car in idle at 1000 rpms. Inspecting the smaller dial beyond that to the gas indicator to his far right, Sam's left, and noting that they'd need to fill up the gas tank before leaving town if they're going anywhere far. Dean turned to his left and saw the giant clock. Larger in diameter then he was tall. Feeling for all the world like Doc Brown on the clock tower in back to the future. Each clock hand was longer then his arm. It wasn't fair.

Sam kept on breathing steadily, hands going to his knees to ground him in the present. Once he got his head back on straight he took another look around and sighed with relief that there was still no one else around. Pedestrian, driver, cop or otherwise. Even so, he couldn't put Dean on the dashboard where he might be seen, so this was the next best option. It had only a one inch ledge in front of the circular displays and Dean was checking out the seams around each round glass, wiping the dust and small gunk off on his pants instead of what was in Sam's satchel. Frowning at the fact he just dirtied up Sam's pants instead, which might not have been much better. Sam could care less, his pants were always dirty just because of the life they live. Dust and dirt was a daily thing.

Trust Dean to ignore the steep drop off to take care of keeping his car in impeccable cleanliness, down to the last millimeter of glass. Maybe that was his older brother's coping mechanisms for all this. Distraction with something that he finds calming. Working on the car. “You good?” Sam said and saw Dean flinch at the sudden words.

“I'm awesome. You?” Dean put his back to the display and slid down so he could sit with his legs straddling the column a bit. Unwilling to let his legs dangle off the steep edge over the floor beyond Sam's knees. “Your color is coming back.”

Sam blushed a bit. He berated himself for the panic attack. “I think the curse is affecting me... doing this. Must be, I can't, I'm freaking out over the littlest things. It's so stupid.” Sam frowned, turning away.

“Don't do that. It's perfectly normal, Sammy.” Dean said. At those apprehensive words though, he began to really consider how the both of them were reacting. Dean didn't want to pat himself on the back too much, but he was better at compartmentalizing his fear now that he knows who this giant man really is. Sam just needs to do something similar. Get over his fears one by one. Most of them stem from his feelings of inadequacies... so, best thing for the big guy is to show him that he's not useless. That he can take control. Dean had the perfect idea for how to get that going. He knocked on the speedometer display behind himself for his attention. “Ok. Now, I think, since no one's around, it wouldn't hurt to show you how to drive for a hot minute.”

Sam's eyes went wide and Dean saw the pupils shrink. Fear response. Head shaking emphatically. The still recovering voice coming out was almost too loud for Dean's ears. “Absolutely _not._ ”

“Sam. It's alright. I'm not asking you to drive to Milwaukee, just, change parking spaces. You can do that, easy peasy. Take it very _very slow_. Don't even touch the gas pedal with your whole foot. Just tap it gently with a toe.”

Sam was still shaking his head and Dean waved for his attention. “This is the gear shift. It moves it out of park, where it's at now, and towards reverse, that's the R. N is for neutral where the car is able to be moved but not needing it to be running or any gas used. Like say, if you need to push it out of the street, it isn't an unmovable dead weight.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I know all that, Dean.” Now that he was focusing on it, his head was clearing. He watched Dean drive for a _year_ , he _knows_ this. He _knows_ he knows this. It just, it was disorientating seeing it from this point of view. Being the one able to control the pedals, shifter, and steering wheel.

“Good! So, which one is next?” Dean asked, knowing Sam couldn't see the answer because that's where Dean was currently sitting. Blocking the view entirely since he also splayed his arms to his sides to cover up the rest.

“Drive, then 2 and 3 for going up steep hills.” Sam said and gripped the gear shift in his right hand and pulled it forward and down without even thinking about it. The car started to drift backwards even without Sam touching the gas. “Fuck!”

Dean plastered himself to the display, feeling the car sliding forwards for him, backwards for Sam. “Put your foot on the brake! Middle pedal!”

Sam slammed his foot on the brake and they stopped the move so abruptly that Dean fell forward hugging the steering wheel column. Sam thrust his hand forward and grabbed Dean up in milliseconds. Pulling him through the gap in the steering wheel and bringing the little guy to his face. “You ok? Fuck, talk to me, Dean!”

Dean coughed at the tight grip and the fingers let loose from around his chest and waist too quickly, making him stumble again. Both of them in a bowl with Dean half sprawled inside. “Would ya - hold still?”

The hands stopped moving all together and Sam's eyes were as wide as ever.

Dean looked around and saw that they only moved two feet. Two... _feet_... he started laughing hysterically. Sam looked worriedly at him and was muttering something about how he must have hit his head. Brain damage from the fall or the grip. Dean waved his free hand up at him. “God you made me think we were heading into traffic!” And laughed some more. Angling his mirthful gaze to Sam. “Sam. Don't pull it out of park unless you've looked all around you first. Now. Put me in your pocket and do exactly as I say.”

The chest was still heaving and Sam would be perfectly fine with heading back into the motel for the rest of his life. Screw this case, screw driving, screw the world. Just take him back home to his hole in the wall.

“You wanted to drive, so let's drive.” Dean said and reached out towards the chest pocket.

“You can't be serious?!” he breathed.

Dean sighed. “Look, we aren't going to get anywhere if we keep second guessing ourselves. Driving is easy, you just need practice. You know which one is brake and gas and the gears. You know enough not to run into people or cars or buildings. You're halfway there already! Ok, now, put me in your front pocket so I can watch what you're doing.”

Sam nodded after a minutes contemplation. Dean was right. They weren't going to get anywhere by staying put. It would take Bobby too long to come to their aide. They'd run out of cash long before he gets there just from another night at the hotel. Dean had planned on making some money at the bar down the way for the rest of their cash, but that was unlikely to happen now. Best they could do is camp out in the Impala and beg for scraps till Bobby got there. But that wasn't really a plan either. Whatever changed them, might happen again to other innocent people. Normal people can't handle the supernatural, hell, they _live it_ and it's already hard to get a grip.

Sam moved Dean over in front of the pocket and Dean climbed in with a bit of help from Sam's other index and middle finger holding onto Dean's outstretched hand. They were gradually getting used to the swapped situations and the sights. Dean dropped in and wiggled his pinched hand for Sam to let go. Sam waited until Dean got himself into a good stance and hooked his arms up and over the lip of the pocket so he could gesture fairly freely. Just tall enough to do so.

“Ok, no one else is parked anywhere close so we are golden pony boy.” Dean grinned and saw the two leather clad arms stretch out on either side of him towards the wheel. It effectively blocked out most of his side view out the windows. “Put your arms a little lower. I know they're supposed to be at ten and two but I can't see out if they are. Or better yet, lean forward slightly and bend your elbows. Perfect.” His pocket swayed forward but that was alright. Now he could see more of the surroundings. “It's still in neutral so put it in reverse but keep your foot on the brake.”

Together, Dean coached Sam into backing up into the spot behind them, parking within the lines and then pulling forward to the spot next to where the Impala started off in, on the right side. Then reverse and forward again. This time to the spot to the left of where they started, requiring a sharper turn of the wheel. Dean then taught him how to back into a spot that was further down instead of opposite and Sam was getting the hang of how much gas to use and how much pressure the brakes needed.

“Ok, we've been in half of these parking spots, how about we leave the lot?” Dean could feel the heart behind him thump harder. “Or not, we can practice some more.”

Sam firmed his jaw. He put it in reverse and backed up all the way to the rear end of the lot to have a good 2 hundred feet of driving space ahead of him. Not quite the street but enough to get to a speed faster then five miles per hour. He breathed for a second, about to start when a woman's car pulled into the lot, watching the Impala, expecting them to move on by, but when they didn't so much as budge, the other driver pulled in to an empty spot and stared at them for half a minute. Most likely waiting for the big black car to drive by and its inhabitant to say something lewd. The way the car was situated and how the driver looked, it was somewhat expected. Dean could practically see her reaching for the can of mace.

Sam risked a hand leaving the wheel to wave at her. After a pause, she waved back. An odd frown on her face. She then made a quick bee line to the front office, stealing glances back at him since they still hadn't moved an inch from the end of the lot.

Dean chuckled a little. “You don't have to wave at everyone.”

“It'd be rude not to.” Sam pouted.

“Yeah, but most people think you are weird enough as is. Regular people don't initiate interactions unless they're in close proximity to each other and can't get away from it. A head nod is enough, maybe a small grin. Not a wave and wide smile. Then it looks like you know them or want something from them.” Dean never thought he'd have to explain this to Sam, but it kind of made sense. Sam spent his short-statured life knowing every single person his size, and if he didn't, it was awesome to meet new little people and he'd understandably want to make friends instead of enemies right off the bat. Ergo, it made sense to greet them with happy enthusiasm.

Sam slumped a little. Dean could feel the bit of sadness there. It was a shame that humans didn't greet each other with warm kindness just because they're strangers. But, it was the fact of the world. There were a lot of predators out there that are after your things, money, or even your life, and you had no way of knowing if they could be trusted. Be polite, but not a pushover.

Dean resumed the lesson so Sam wouldn't become disheartened. “Ok, put on more gas then you did before but brake before you get to the street so you're not running full on into traffic. If there's no one around, turn left and go down the street till you hit the dead end and come on back. I'm pretty sure it was a dead end when we first got here.”

Sam firmed his grip of the wheel and did as instructed, a car pulled out of a driveway not far from the parking lot's driveway, and Sam slammed on the brakes. Sam soldiered through the mild heart attack and watched the car go on it's merry way before they headed down the street. Stopping at stop signs that Dean forgot were there. Sam was getting the hang of this and decided to drive around the block a couple of times before making it into a figure eight. He pulled off to the side of the road in front of other parked cars and beamed.

“Great job, Dale Earhart.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Dean chuckle-sighed. “Might as well drive to the shop. I think you can handle some traffic. Stay to the right lane, let everyone pass you if they want. Once you're more comfortable, you can drive more aggressively, but for now, I think it'd be best to 'grandma drive' on over there. For now, yellow means stop unless you're already in the intersection. Do not speed up if it's yellow before you get there to avoid the red light.”

Sam was about to argue but found the logic in his brother's words. Do as he says, not as he does. Dean's been driving since before he was technically old enough to. Sam literally just started an hour ago. So, after Dean studied the streets, he got his bearings and instructed which roads they'd need to take to get to the shop and surprisingly enough, only got honked at twice. The second time, Sam let the middle finger fly and got a raucous laugh from his pocket. “What? The dude cut me off! I had my turn signal on and everything!”

Dean wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh man. That was funniest thing... whew! Never saw that bitchface coming did he?! That sucker is lethal!” Dean kept the fact that Sam was technically the one in the wrong in that previous altercation. He was more proud of his brother standing up for himself and not freaking out at the loud sharp honking. They finally parked and exited the Impala when Dean suddenly remembered last second to duck back down. The move jolting Sam into stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look down. Remembering himself, he adjusted the leather jacket to partially cover the pocket and walked along the sidewalk, checking out the storefronts.

He was in the pocket the first time he was here, so it took him a second to study the line of decorated windows to make sure the one he stood in front of was the right store. All of the storefronts looked the same with signs covering up half of their merchandise. The door swung open cheerfully ringing an overhead wind chime and he knew he got the right place by that sound. Muzak from hidden speakers was not as overbearing now, and the incense burning in the corner was thankfully more muted this time. Dean sneezed.

Sam flinched at the tiny sound and barely perceptible body jerk in his pocket and quickly stood off to the side. Slipping away from the main path and pretending to look at a rack of ladies scarves for sale that all had some kind of space theme on them. Gawking at the overpriced strips of fabric. The shopkeeper came out from the back and grinned widely at Sam who stopped dead still. She recognized him, right, crap. Sam wished like hell he'd paid attention to _anything_ his brother and her were talking about yesterday.

Sabrina, the shop owner Sam remembered, came up close and only furrowed her brow when she noticed him cradling a scarf in his hands. “Those are nice aren't they?”

Sam looked down and grinned a little embarrassed. “Yeah... uh, nice. My niece... I thought she might like one.”

Her eyes lit up. Sam backpedaled fast. Buying a useless overpriced scarf would have severely cut into their limited funds. A quick glance showed they didn't have the color red so he said, “Ah shoot, you don't have red.” And hastily put the one he was holding back and stepped away from the display quickly in case she did have a red one in the back. His gaze darting to the shelves he was standing on just the night before. “So,” He started conversationally and ignored the lecherous looks she was giving him. “I heard that you find things from other dealers? Buy from other Wiccans and resell them here?” He didn't see the point in small talk like Dean insisted. He felt a sharp jab in his chest from Dean's elbow. Likely wishing he could confer with his brother on how big of an ass he was being.

Sabrina frowned at him, shifting her weight to the other leg. “You change your mind?”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “Hmm?”

Her fingers came up and gave double quotes, pouting, “Coffee.”

Right. That was what they talked about. “I uh. No thanks. Ya see, we're only in town for a couple of days and uh, coffee would keep me up too late.”

“We?”

Fuckity fuck, “Yeah, we uh, we. My brother and I. He likes coffee more then I do. Ahem.” He excused himself to browse around some more. Practically feeling the exasperated moans from Dean. His hand came up and brushed against the pocket, making the smaller man jump at the unexpected movement. Serves him right. “Notice anything, uh, unusual around here lately, uh Sabrina?”

“Unusual how? Like someone asking for coffee then leaving me waiting at the shop?”

Sam blushed, “I oh, I know what you're thinking, haha, no, uh. My brother is my _twin_. Looks just like me. He told me about your shop and how cool it was. And so here I am!”

“Your brother.” skepticism dripping from her voice. Blood red fingernails tapping on a display. She sighed and said, “Look, if you changed your mind, all you gotta do is say so. I'm a big girl. I can handle it.” She sounded sad, Sam wanted to curse his brother out even more for leading her on. Even if they hadn't passed out the night before from the curse or spell or whatever this is, Sam knew his older brother wouldn't have kept in touch with the lady after 'coffee'.

“I'm so sorry, but it's the truth, it was my brother who spoke to you yesterday. I was out at a,” Think Sam, think, what would a normal thing people do by themselves? Something that I do to pass the time, that has nothing to do with carving out silverware from matchsticks or dethreading fabrics for my clothes... “Writing. I was writing. Reading mostly.”

Sabrina's eyes glinted a bit in interest. “A writer?” the Wiccan was buying his bullshit story? Did she not notice that he and his brother wear the _exact same_ leather coat? Maybe she wasn't looking at the coat yesterday. “Writers... are pretty smart, huh? Are you rich? Famous?” her tone changing to desire in a heartbeat. Well fuck.

“No, nothing like that, nothing interesting. Researching more then writing. Folklore mostly.” He said the first thing to come to mind and it turned out to be just the right thing. Light bulb going off at the same time he felt Dean tap rapidly against his chest. “I was doing research on cursed objects. Old antiques and I heard you might have some interesting pieces here.”

“Heard from who?” She asked with a wary lilt to her previously interested voice. She eyed him up, while backing up to her display case with some valuable things inside. Sam was unsure if she was going to protect it from him or ask if he wanted to buy any.

“People.” Sam said shrugging. “There was a lady that was into hoodoo that had passed away and her kids were selling her things. When I got there, all the supernaturally enhanced things were sold already and I was hoping to at least see what they were.” He explained, but might have been the exact wrong thing to say.

She backed up all the way to the checkout counter and slipped behind. Apparently, Sabrina was so new to being a Wiccan that she hadn't fully set aside her penchant for long, double barreled firearms. Her eyes were trained on the tall blond man in front of her as she reached under the counter to pull up a mean looking shotgun. “How did you know about that?”

Sam raised up his hands immediately. Dean was thrown against the wide chest from the unexpected move. “What?!”

“Were you following me?” The shotgun in her manicured hands raised as she asked her questions.

“No! I was just, I went to the sale too and, and, and they said that some people already bought some stuff!” Sam back peddled into the shelves behind him. Knocking over a few trinkets. Dean couldn't see anything from inside the pocket, being jostled around too much to find one of the holes in the shirt to look out of. All his world consisted of was a booming voice and a cloth prison that wouldn't stop throwing him around like a sock in a dryer. The fast heart rate responsible for half of the shoves.

She was not convinced and pumped a round into the chamber. “Get the hell out.”

“Please! Just one question and I'll go. _Please_. I don't mean you any harm.”

She waited, flicking the end of the shotgun up for him to continue.

Sam wracked his brain for what to say, how to word it so she wouldn't assume the worst. Hell with it. She might be in trouble if whatever the object is went after her too or other patrons. He wished he could consult Dean for what question would be best to ask. “The thing that you bought -”

“I bought a few things there, which one?” She interrupted. Her confusion clear, but her shotgun never wavered.

Sam hesitated, ok, so this wont be easy. “One of the things that you bought had a history behind it. A bad one.” Not a question yet but it helped to make her listen. “The family didn't know what they were selling, not really, some of the things were meant for good, like the things in your lovely shop.” He waved a hand around himself and she glanced around too. “But, one of the things was not.”

“Which one?”

Sam bit his lip. He doesn't know. “I don't know exactly what it looks like, but I know that you bought it, and it's bad. As a Wiccan, you don't like bad vibes? Bad spirits? My question is, do you really want this evil in your shop?”

She faltered her grip on the shotgun, fear creeping into her expression. “I don't want anything -” hesitating. Her eyes glancing behind Sam and then back again. Sam knew, read somewhere, that when threatened, or in danger, people will always first glance at the things most precious to them. Or, the things that are being talked about. It's instinct to check up on the objects or people that are being discussed and whatever Sam and Dean were looking for, was literally right behind them. She realized her mistake when Sam turned to the shelves and their trinkets and objects. Snow globes, statues, jewelry, intricate stone boxes and some candles, it could be any one of those things. His attention snapped back to her when she shouted, “Get out of my shop!”

Sam's heart was beating hard and he raised his hands up higher. “Going! I'm going!” inching towards the door.

“Out! Get out! And tell your 'brother' I don't want to see his face around here again!”

“Duly noted! Thank you for your time.” He said, practically curtsied if it would ensure he could leave without worrying about buckshot taking out half his ass. Sam practically raced out of there in case she decided to take matters into her own hands and shoot him anyway, despite the fact he literally didn't do anything illegal or wrong.

Sam ran to the car once he left the store and got into the driver's seat, hands planting on the wheel and breaths coming fast and short. “Dean? Dean you ok?”

Dean punched the chest behind him and stood up, shaky fingers interlacing themselves between the shirt threads. Sam could have died just then from an overreacting witch. “That could have gone better.” he commented. The only thing keeping Sam from snapping at him was how equally startled he looked. “We'll figure it out. Hey. Look at me. Sam look.” He punched the chest again. “We already figured a few things out. It wasn't a total loss.”

“Like what?” Sam asked incredulously and modulated his tone and volume when he saw Dean wince and cover his ears. “Sorry.” he muttered. Sighing tiredly. He leaned forward and thumped his head on the steering wheel between his hands. “That was close.”

“That, was nothing.” Dean shrugged. He felt the gust of warm breaths on him. Sam was coping and it was all he could ask. “Listen, you really did do a good job in there. We know now that the thing we are after is in that shop for sure. That the grand kids were accurate in their scrying for the thing and we had the right shop. We know that not only is it in there, but it is on that shelf you were on yesterday.”

“I looked at all that stuff. I didn't see anything!” Sam whined.

“Maybe it didn't have to be old to be cursed? Ever think of that?”

No, he didn't. Huh. Makes sense that everything had to be newly made sometime. “But come on, it was tourist crap!”

“Maybe the old lady got it from a vacation or a friend and accidentally mojo'ed it up with some bad voodoo instead of hoodoo. I don't know. Point is, it's in there, and easy to access then the glass counter. No security beyond the front door alarm.”

Sam frowned but agreed. The reason sounded plausible, even if a little out there. It was odd that something that powerful was just chilling out on an old wooden shelf with a 'made in china' sticker still on it's back. It could be worse. The thing could have killed Sam or Dean, instead of just making them swap places.

“So, what do we do now, Dean?”

Dean slumped a bit inside the pocket. Night was falling already. They'd spent most of the day sleeping in, and then freaking out inside the motel room. It wasn't late per-say, but they had no plan for where to bed down for the night besides the Impala. Check out time was in half an hour. They only have so much money before they are out, so they need to solve this case as soon as possible so Dean can wrangle up some more cash by hustling at the bar. Credit card scams take longer then that, and Sam hasn't played pool in.... has the kid ever played pool? Darts? Poker? He's helped Dean with some card games, calling peoples bluffs and helping the two win some big pots, but on his own? Does Sam even have a poker face? First things first. Grab their stuff from the hotel before they're charged for another night, or someone sees the other weapons in Dean's bags. Crap. “Gotta get back to the motel and grab our stuff. Looks like we're camping out under the stars tonight.” Dean shrugged and turned around inside the pocket to face the steering wheel again.

 

 

 


	8. Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam vs. Swing set.

Chapter Eight:

Counting Stars

 

 

Sam nodded absently. Fumbling with the key again Dean waited patiently for the huge heart behind him to calm. Sam was getting a bit better at driving, but was still learning the basics. Thankfully, the roads were less busy then before since school let out. The Impala crept along back to the motel anyway and made it without incident. On the way, Sam did notice a wide play park and wondered if Dean wanted to waste some time there. Later perhaps. He cleared his throat, reminding Dean to duck down again so's not to be seen when they went back into their room.

Sam took a bit longer to gather up their things because Dean insisted that everything of theirs went back into its rightful place. Dean sometimes may act like a slob that doesn't care about cleanliness, but he has an order to his madness. Outside observers would see a mess, Dean sees efficiency. Knife under pillow with the handle aimed just so, so that his reaching hand doesn't have to angle his wrist to effortlessly find the handle instead of the blade end first. Then the trunk was another good example, alphabetized according to monster. From A to Zombie. A baseball bat wrapped up with barbed wire was hugging the wall to the far right side, leftover from their dad's store of weapons. Effective, but messy.

John Winchester had started anew when he'd bought his big truck, leaving Dean with the original store of weapons that held a lot of memories for the small family. Tried and true for his son's hunts. Dean didn't see it as such right off the bat, an envious whistle when he saw his dad's shiny new store of guns, knives, and weapons. Only a few charms looked older then a few years. But, John knew that once Dean set out hunting on his own, he would appreciate the familiar and reliable weapons over brand new ones that still had the price tag on it. No telling if they'd be worth anything in an actual fight until it happened. So really, John was looking out for him and making sure he would succeed. Didn't mean jack when he still left his son alone for those long months... Dean wanted his dad, not his hand-me-downs.

Dean knew there was no point in whining about it now. Their dad went back into the wind again and it wasn't looking like he wanted to team up again any time soon. So, it's just him and Sammy. Kicking ass and taking names... and toiletries.

At Dean's insistence, they stole the shampoo, conditioner and soaps from the room, along with a washcloth. Hey, they had lied about the free HBO in the rooms, sure the channel was there, but was too fuzzy to watch anything. This is fair justice.

Sam pocketed the things without question. Probably instinct to scavenge, even now, by the former borrower. Sam offered up his hand and Dean clambered up and out of the pocket. “Uhmm, where did you want to go, Dean?”

Dean shrugged, “Floor I guess, I'll start packing up the nightstand room.” He felt the whoosh of air fly by the hand as Sam walked between the beds and lowered the hand a bit too quick for Dean's stomach. He swallowed back some upchuck and dismounted with wobbling haste. Hiding his seasickness from the giant behind him, he went to the rear of the room he woke up in to breath it out for a minute. The place was a mess. Dean sighed and started straightening up the papers and drawing supplies. Tucking it into the drawer of the desk and shoving it closer to the entrance. Next was the bed and its tangle of sheets. Folding them up and making it as tidy as possible and tucking the sheets into the small pillowcase to keep them from unraveling. A few other odds and ends got put in the satchel and he shoved the bed next to the desk for pickup. All the while, he felt the rumbling steps coming from Sam who was tidying up the room as well as gathering up their stuff.

The big boy-scout didn't like leaving a huge mess for the maids if they could help it. Dean was impressed with how well Sam was packing it all away, efficient and neat. Sam informed him that he'll take the stuff to the Impala first then come back in for him and the small things. Then hefted up the two bags and left Dean alone in the room.

It was eerily quiet in there with no giant moving about, talking, or accidental shouting. He could distantly hear the TV turn on in the next room over and shuddered to think about their neighbor coming over when Sam wasn't there to protect him. Dean found himself backing up into the corner and waiting as quietly as possible. Memories of Sam being kidnapped were now seen with this new perspective. If Sam got into any trouble out there... Dean would be screwed. Oh so very screwed. He knows that Sam uncovered the entrance to the wall again, so if he had a chance in hell, he'd have to make it into that hole, down the labyrinth of walls and floors, ceilings or vents or God knows what, and make it into another motel room. Making sure there's no humans around, or about to come back in, then get to the nightstand, climb on up, and use the phone in there to call Bobby. He couldn't use the one in this room because whatever thing took Sam out, would obviously come in here and see him in plain sight. He'd have to abandon everything but the bag over his shoulder and call up Bobby and hope and pray that the old hunter could make it to him and figure out what happened to Sam and how to get him back.

Dean knew that there was basically no way in hell he could do it on his own. Sam could have, but that's because it's Sam. He's the one with the skill and knowledge on how to get around and function with this tiny body. Hell, Dean's not entirely sure he could even climb up to the top of the bed. Climbing down from the counter top in the bathroom was easy, but climbing up? Nothing but this fishing line and no hand or foot knots in it for grip? Forget about it.

He heard footsteps outside of the room approach and for one delirious moment, thought it was those nameless faceless 'bad guys' and he bolted from the nightstand, sliding underneath it in time for the door to swing open. He felt the ground tremble with the steps as the giant human or monster or thing went to the table and from the sounds of it, gathered up the laptop and put it away with the papers from the tabletop from the case. Then they left again. Ok, so, probably Sam. Dean started to army crawl back out when the door flung open again a few seconds later. Boots stomping over to the nightstand made the floor jump beneath Dean and he froze like a rabbit in a wolf's sight.

“Dean?” The voice rumbled overhead as the feet backed up from the nightstand and the human lowered himself into a kneel, fabric shuffling. Looking under the bed. Dean _knew_ this was just Sam, but the sounds seemed more amplified in the small space. Ominous. Dean bit his lip when the shuffling fabric sound came from the other side. Sam's searching for him. Not finding him. Those breaths are picking up in pace, dust churning in his tight area made him sneeze and the massive form froze just outside of the nightstand. There was a few seconds of silence where Sam was listening closely for some other sound.

Dean cursed himself out and crept forward, closer to the huge man. “I'm here. I was uh, looking for your pencil lead.” He said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck when that tingling came back. “It rolled... uh, rolled under.”

An obvious lie. With the carpet as thick as it is, the small bits of pencil lead would have stopped the second they dropped from the nightstand's shelf. Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean's hands which then lifted, showing off the minuscule lumps he withdrew from his pocket. Then those great greens flicked up to Dean's face and a look of hurt crossed his brother's face before he cleared his throat and gave a forced chuckle. “Thanks, Dean. Got the lead out, huh?” and backed up from his smaller brother to give him space without making it look like he was giving him space. Sam busied himself with something on top of the nightstand instead, to keep himself from looking down and making Dean feel pinned in place.

Dean put the pencil lead back into the satchel, looking up and only seeing the opened jacket and two shirts. He kept up a mantra of, 'It's just Sam,' and got his head on straight again. Saying loud enough for the big guy to hear, “Har, har. Gimme a hand here would'ja?”

Sam's soft grin came back and he reached past Dean to gather up the bed and put it on top of the nightstand, going after the desk next. Presumably to get Dean used to the sight of furniture being handled with careful fingers. Finally the only thing left down there was Dean who looked uncomfortable as hell. “Need a lift?” He asked even as his hand came back down and flattened out in front of him. Waiting patiently for Dean to get on board. He did so, but on his hands and knees again, knowing that he's nowhere near familiar enough with hand-travel to stay standing as it moves. Sam lifted him up to the pocket wordlessly, figuring out Dean would feel more comfortable there then staying in the hand or sitting up on top of the shoulder. Dean swung down into the pocket with a bit more finesse then last time, and found this one was a bit roomier then the t-shirt pocket. The flannel was warm and thicker. Keeping its shape as he sat down in the corner, satchel on his lap. He heard Sam gather up the bed and desk and put them into his larger side pockets in the jacket before standing up. That feeling of being in an amusement park ride came back and Dean clutched the sides to keep himself from bouncing too much.

Sam strode around the room again, checking out everything just as someone knocked on the door. He stood up straight and abrupt and Dean felt his gigantic heart jump and skip a beat.

A feminine voice calling out beyond the door. “Checkout time.”

Sam sighed in relief, brushing a hand down over Dean's pocket. “Thanks, we -” catching himself he said louder, “I'm leaving now.” he waited for her to move on and knock on the next door. Man these guys were strict. Her tired and slightly irritated voice calling out announcements on down the line.

Dean said upwards, “Does she even know how many people are staying here?” Feeling the one shouldered shrug. Maybe she was too lazy to check the books. In any case, she moved on and they quickly remembered the food they had stored in the kitchen, and reheated the remaining pizza in the microwave before putting Dean's slice of pie back into the box and bringing it with him out to the car.

Sam took a deep breath, smelling mostly pizza and grinned at the promise of warm food, and braved the world again. He one handed triple checked his pockets before closing the motel door and strolling to the Impala. He set the pizza on the passenger seat and pulled out the pie so it wouldn't get too warm being that near the food. All the while, Dean swung side to side like the pocket was a hammock until Sam ducked back out of the Impala again, closing the door gently before going into the office to drop off the key, and grab a map of local attractions.

Dean stayed put. Still and silent. The voices beyond the pocket sounded bored and disinterested and he was relieved that they weren't even looking Sam's way. He'd know, because Sam's heart would have picked up it's pace. Sam said farewell, and went back to their car, looking all around at what he could see of the town. The land was mostly flat so he could make out a few taller buildings that were most likely the downtown businesses. The outskirts of town lay closest to the west, where the highway laid. The town itself wasn't very big, but big enough for a couple of strip malls and a choice in dinning. Sam wished he'd paid more attention when Dean pulled up into town, but the drive was just like every other. There was never really a need for Sam to know where stuff was, Dean was the one to take him everywhere and for the most part, Sam had to remain hidden from view so he rarely ever got the chance to see the main streets of any town aside from the view from Dean's shoulder as they drove by. And that was usually at a higher speed then normal so no one would be able to make out the 4 inch tall man riding a guys shoulder like a parrot.

Sam looked down at his pocket and wondered how Dean would take to this life if this was permanent. If they somehow couldn't get into that shop and find the thing that did this to them, or _did_ find it, but were too late to change back. Sam knew that they'd be welcomed at Bobby's house until they got their bearings, but then what? Would they slip right back into hunting? Or retire and fix cars for Bobby for a living.

Sam kept those thoughts to himself. Any doubt of them returning to normal had to be squashed flat. Focus on the here and now and work on what they can. For _now_ now though, they had no plan of action since the sun's still out, and Sabrina the trigger happy Wiccan would likely be on high alert for the rest of the day.

Neither of them has any idea what to do to waste some time till it gets dark enough to infiltrate the shop. Sam drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before he pulled out of the parking lot and with no direction in mind, drove to the park he saw on the way. Dean quirked an ear to the sounds of the Impala shutting down after only four minutes driving. “Where are we?”

“The park. There's really no one else around, and I don't feel like driving too far from the shop for no good reason.”

Dean bobbled his head, fair point. It's not like they had a full tank of gas either. He stayed sitting, thinking over potential plans for tonight. Sam was doing the same, going by the thoughtful 'hmm' and how the body twisted in the seat. Sounds of paper crinkling and Sam scrounging up a pen to scrawl out some observations.

“I don't have enough room to work in here.” Sam said after a few minutes and gathered up a notebook and the pen, and pulling the pizza box closer as he got out of the Impala and walking somewhere. Dean was just along for the ride and was now curious as hell where Sam intended to go when the chest dipped forward and then sideways before straightening again. “There we go.” The voice rumbled around Dean and he felt Sam settle a bit more fully on the seat before setting the pizza box to his left and laying out the notebook to the right and starting to write.

Dean looked up when the pen scratches paused long enough for Sam to pull out another slice of pizza, taking a huge bite out of it and moaning at the flavor. The chest vibrating his whole world and he could practically feel the lump of food move down the throat and enter the stomach just underneath his pocket. Not disturbing at all...

Sam looked down, a string of cheese falling down towards Dean who batted it away. “Sorry.” He murmured and set the slice aside, and dropped his fingers back into the pocket, wiggling invitingly. Dean decided not to bitch him out for the silent demand and got on. His brother knows well enough not to bring him out if there was a ghost of a chance of someone seeing the smaller man. Dean pointed to the pizza box and Sam quirked an eyebrow but dutifully set Dean down inside the box.

“Some cover if someone shows up. Just close the lid.” Dean called up and found his slice easily enough, digging into the satchel and pulling out his slightly used plate again. He munched on a slightly dried out sausage and looked up and around. The sky was partly cloudy and they were in the partial shade of a huge tree. It blocked out most of the sights around the two, but Dean could still see over the lip of the pizza box from where he sat. “Nice little picnic.” He commented and got a cheesy grin from Sam.

It was nice and peaceful out. Not too cold, and the wind was barely there. Sam went right back to making notes on what he remembered seeing on the wooden shelf. Mumbling to himself and frequently closing his eyes to visualize it better. “Snow globe, crystal balls, twin dragon heart statues, counting stars, herbs and dried plants in jars... what was it... wolfs bane, devils shoestring, posies, yarrow, rose hips, desert sage smudge sticks...” Sam trailed off while his fingers kept on listing. Ignoring the tourist crap and recalling the things tied more to Wiccans. He made another column for the shelf underneath the first one, moving onto those other objects, “A totem of some kind, native American? Some elemental wolf statues; plastic, couple of black flame candles, a whole row of graveyard dirts from around the country going by the coloration, moonstone jewelry, tarot decks, pendulum stones, rune stones, what else was there... candles, alter cloths...”

Dean zoned out a little at the list, wishing he'd paid more attention to those important details, but if it wasn't for him distracting Sabrina, Sam wouldn't have been able to investigate. He went over the layout of the place in his own head, thinking about what the floors looked like and where things were so that when Sam drops him off, he doesn't get lost in a clothing rack or behind some towering furniture stands set up for the things for sale. That lady did not know shit about Feng shui. The store resembled a garage sale.

Sam's hand distracted his thoughts as it descended down and grabbed a wide slice of pizza to Dean's immediate right. Glancing over to make sure he didn't run into his brother, he folded it in his hand and pulled it away, eating as much pizza as he could. Knowing that it wouldn't keep overnight for breakfast so might as well eat it now. Dean resolutely looked away when the hand came back for more just a minute later, and adamantly ignoring the sounds of chewing and swallowing. One look was all it took for Dean to see Sam take a bite bigger then his whole body and only chew twice before swallowing it down. The lump of food clear as day traveling down the throat and disappearing under the shirts. He shivered from his seat. No wonder Sam was always bitching him out about chewing with his mouth open when they first met up again. At least Sam closed his mouth as he ate... but still, the _sounds._..

Sam's mind was solely on the case as he ate, mouth thinning into a grim line while his other hand speedily wrote down his lists. Dean picked up on it and frowned in return. Something was bugging his Samsquash. Well, any number of things. Dean let it be, if Sam needed or wanted to talk, he will. For now, once Dean got past the whole, giant eating things bigger then him, it was actually nice to have this moment. An impromptu picnic at the park. The sky above was turning a few nice shades of purple and pinks. Hinting at the colors at first before the sun hit the clouds just right and the colors just _popped_.

“Damn.” Dean whispered, appreciatively. “Hey, Sammy.” He waited for the vexing look that crossed his giant's face to turn his way. “Look up.”

Sam frowned but dutifully looked up, scanning the sky for birds of prey, or bats, or some other danger his brother's trying to alert him to. Not spotting anything right away, he turned his head back towards Dean who was looking past the tree towards the sunset, following the little line of sight, he gasped at the colors. So _beautiful_. If only they didn't have the tree in the way... Sam looked down and without waiting for permission, (but he did move slow enough) moved his hands around Dean, cupping him into the center and pulling his brother close to his chest. He got up from the picnic bench and strode closer to the playground sand. The only spot that didn't have trees blocking the sunset, and hunkered down on the sand. Lowering his hands to the space between the knees of his splayed out legs. Blocking anyone from seeing Dean right away. Helping his brother deal with the sight of being on the low ground. Exposed.

Dean backed up to the hands on instinct. Looking fearfully up and all around at the world that was even larger now that he could see more of it. “Sammy?” he said, tone belying his fears.

“I gotcha covered, Dean. Just look at that view.” Sam grinned leaning forward to help his brother cope with the world looming around them. “No one is anywhere around. See?” he said as he lifted his knees up and exposed the horizon around Dean's spot. Sure enough, they were the only living souls there. “I wouldn't let anything get to ya.” Sam promised and looked towards the setting sun again.

Dean still backed up and ran into the hands behind him again, one curved to the side while still lax where the forearms rested on the thighs. Half of the giant right hand draping over his right side. The thumb barely touching Dean's back as the little hands held onto the relaxed index finger in front. Taking the huge single digit in hand made Dean feel more grounded, safe. Sam didn't dare mention how it looked from his point of view, like Dean was a frightened child holding onto his hand. Instead he whistled low at the new colors coming out. Magenta's and deeper purples. Orange and reds. The wind picked up slightly and he felt Dean lean more against the hand for warmth then anything. Dean sat down, cross legged and finally let go of Sam's finger.

They sat there till the sun drifted below the cloud cover and nearly blinded them both. Dean looked away first, blinking blankly at the sand underneath him until the burnt orbs dissipated from his vision. He gathered up a handful of sand and looked at it closely. The size of it was more like pea-gravel now. Half of that actually, but still much larger then he's used to.

“Huh. It always looked so small before, but now I can see the crystals that make it up. This is salt? And quartz, lots of quartz... more of it's pulverized rocks, but this is part of a seashell. Dude. This is wild.” Dean commented and picked up another handful, tilting it this way and that, dragging a finger though the large grains and powder before letting the tiny handful fall and watching the bright setting sun catch the rays just right to send sparkles against the huge hand behind him. “Damn. This is pretty cool.”

Sam looked down and nodded. Lifting up his own handful of sand in his left hand, on the other side of the outstretched leg so Dean isn't at risk of having the handful of sand bury him. Seeing the glints from the sunlight hitting the tiny crystals just right. Hearing Dean talk about how some of the pieces are actually sending out prisms of color on his hand. Seeing the small fingers dance in the air, Sam had to take his word on it. Far too small to see for himself, he knew what sand looked like in the sun. Humans may control the world, but they're missing half of it. Simply because they can't see it from where they're sitting.

It was amusing to watch Dean pack away a few grains of sand for later, frowning because once Dean's back in his rightful body, those crystals would turn into bits of rock again. Loosing them the instant Sam hands them over. He'd have to make sure they had some clear tape or something to hold the grains in place, and get a magnifying glass. Thinking of, a magnifying glass or microscope might be a good idea for the future. Dean might have nixed that idea early on, if only so that his tiny little brother wouldn't be offended by its presence. Sam mentally shrugged. Could care less about it. He knows he's small, and having Dean be able to see the same things as him might actually help in the long run. Like, if Dean needed to be able to read his journal for whatever reason, he could do so quicker then having to find a magnifier in the store. Sam put that idea aside for now. Just as Dean might not want to upset Sam by pointing out how small he is, Sam didn't want to offend Dean either. Rubbing it in.

Sam noticed the sun finally went below the horizon so they still had about half an hour before it would be too dark to see anything. He noticed the swing set, and had a wistful look in his eyes. How long had it been since he'd been on one of those? Dean's stomach would likely protest any and all motions that felt like flying... but... swing set...

Dean looked up at Sam who was facing something off to the side, that wistful look in those big eyes. He grabbed a handhold of jeans and hoisted himself up to the top, feeling the leg tense underneath and the hand that had been relaxed, shoot up underneath his shoes to act as a platform. Startling Dean into nearly falling over the other side of the leg.

“Damn it, Sam!” he shouted and straddled the leg, glaring upwards. “I can climb my own damn leg, ya know.” He stated and stood on the still jumping ground. “Stop that!” The leg finally relaxed after a few more muscle twitches.

Sam kept his hand at the ready on the outer side now, which made Dean roll his eyes.

“What were you pinning over anyway?” Dean asked, trying and failing to lean over far enough to see past the tower of torso. The park spanned out in every direction and he was grateful for his brother being so vigilant, even if he's being too obvious about it.

“It's nothing. It's stupid.” Sam waved his left hand around dismissively and faced the sunset again. Not much to see now, just light blues going into darker blues towards the east.

“Uh, huh.” Dean folded his arms after tucking the long hair behind the ears again. He judged the distance to the ground and jumped down on the other side, the sand threatening to make him stumble, but he was getting the hang of this. Sam looked back down and watched Dean march around his hip and take in the rest of the park. “The slide? Jungle gym? What?”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, freckles popping, mumbling, “The uh, swings.”

Dean nodded. Ok, that's doable. “Sure, why not.”

Sam's embarrassment escalated, waiting for the teasing to commence. “No, it's fine. It's just... it's fine.” The red creeping up to the ears next.

Dean started walking over to the monolithic swing set. The metal supports arching into the sky like the Gateway arch in St. Louis. “Well, I'm going. Don't know about you.” cursing the sand for going from beautiful and dazzling, to shoe sucking in just a few steps. A real workout just walking those few feet before Sam made a few incredulous sounds behind him. Dean shifted the bag to his other side and navigated around a fallen twig that was as thick as a tree to him. Climbing up and over instead of crawling under the one inch gap below it. Then the next twig was more like a stick and wide enough for him to walk along to get better traction under his shoes. It stayed steady under his feet nearly the whole way down.

Sam watched him go. Sure that Dean was just joking about traversing that distance. It was a good fifty feet away and on the other side of a railroad tie barrier that Dean would have to use the hook and line to get over. Dean showed no signs of stopping or slowing, so he turned around and got to his knees, watching his short brother flinch from the sounds but continue on as if he hadn't heard. Sam stood and took the two steps to reach Dean and his brother kept right on going. With those little legs, Dean made it another ten full feet before sighing in aggravation and looking nearly straight up at Sam who loomed overhead.

“Gonna make me walk the whole way?”

“You were on a roll.” Sam smirked. He then got down on a knee and dropped a hand down for his brother who got on without hesitation, and minimal grumbling. Sam grinned and brought Dean up to chest high, giving another studious look around them to make sure they remained the only people there. So far, save for a very light breeze the surroundings were motionless, peaceful, and quiet. The town settling in for the night. Sam strode over to the swings and paused when he stood in front of one that was high enough for adults instead of the customary toddlers. One swing was all plastic and looked more like a bucket then anything, probably for infants. “How'd you wanna... uhm..” Sam moved over to the bucket one, indecisive. Dean would feel all the motion, but unable to see anything to focus on so he'd loose his lunch. Basically flying blind. That would be bad.

Dean hadn't the foggiest idea. “I'll be good on the ground. Gonna make a kick ass sand castle 'cause why the hell not?”

Sam's smile turned bright and gummy, eyes crinkling now that he knew Dean was letting himself have some fun too. That he wouldn't be bored to death watching Sam play around in a playground for the first time in too many years. So Sam found a good spot that was far enough away so he couldn't possibly land on him on accident, which was located on the other side of the support beams for the swing set. Close enough to detour animals from taking interest in his tiny brother. He lowered himself down into a crouch and let Dean off on a nearby sandy mound. Picking the leaf litter and tiny twigs out of it when Dean stopped him. “Getting rid of my precious lumber? For shame, Paul Bunyan.”

Sam bowed his head in respect and lined up a number of tiny twigs in the area that were about Dean's height or less, picking through and finding good ones when Dean shooed him away. “This is mine, go play with your own stuff.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean shouted up and grabbed a couple of the twigs and dragged them closer to the pile. The sand was still moist under the top layer, making it perfect for building.

Sam stood back and unlaced the boots, taking them off and setting them down on their sides, like the corners of a wall around behind Dean's work station. At Dean's quizzical look, Sam just gestured around them, raising an eyebrow. Fair point. They are still outside and the inside of a tough leather boot is better then being totally exposed. At least until Sam comes to the rescue a few second later. Sometimes precious seconds is all you have to find shelter.

Once Sam was satisfied Dean was alright on his own, he sized up the swing and sat down. Lifting his legs and then laying his feet flat on the ground again. Ok. This swing is broken. He could just barely hear Dean laughing his ass of at him. Ignore it. Sam lifted his legs forward and leaned forward then back. Some movement, barely wiggles. More guffaws. “Screw you, Dean.” he huffed and tried again. Furiously leaning forward and back again. The swing chains creaking and clanking loudly.

“Legs up, lean back, then legs tucked and lean forward.” Dean shouted as loud as he could. Sam flushed and gave a minute nod. Trying it out.

Legs lifting up and leaning back at the same time made him go forward a little, then tucking his legs and leaning forward made him go back. Huh. Ok, this could work. There was a kind of tempo he had to work with. If he leaned back too soon, it just made the swing slow down as if it was the confused one in the equation. He found that the more exaggerated the movements were, the higher he'd go. He knew he looked foolish but this was turning out to be pretty fun. Feeling the wind go by his face and then the whoosh of swinging backwards. Similar to the side pocket in Dean's leather jacket, but this time, he's controlling it.

Sam found a good pace and thought about if he'd jump at the furthest apex of height on the swing forward. If he could leap from the seat and get some distance. Surely no kid had ever thought of that! It was _so high_! His smile turned a bit manic and he pumped himself up to do it. Being able to see over the bar overhead! He got his hands ready to let go, swung forward as fast as ever and leapt! _Holy shit this was a bad idea!!_

Dean witnessed the massive human swoop ever higher and higher on the swing, the wind whipped up from the colossal body made his bangs sway haphazardly, even from this distance. He watched Sam move his arms around so that they were closer to his body and free of the chains holding the seat up, and... oh no. Hell no. He's not gonna. _Fuck._ He is. Dean winced but had to watch as the 6 ft+ tall man leaped forward from the swing and arch into the air far above. Time slowed down. Those long jean-clad legs stretched ahead of him, toes pointed to the earth. The rest of the body arching backwards, slowly finding its center of gravity as the shirt rode up, exposing belly, and stretched out and down, finally revealing to the smaller Winchester, the larger Winchester's current flash of expression. The sheer panic on that face said it all. 'I may have overestimated my abilities in this matter.'

The body fell from the sky, chest leaning forward at the last second, hands and arms splayed out and braced for the impact that initially shook the landscape from the two socked feet, then knees, then hands landing on it. Just barely breaking the fall before landing on his shocked face. Sam tucked in in the last second and landed on his side instead of his chest, and after a moment to assess his personal status, his wide eyes lit up. Like a kid discovering a newfound ability. His whole demeanor screamed, 'AGAIN!'

Sam burst from the ground and got right back onto the swing that hadn't even had a chance to settle down before the weight was thrown into it, chains pulling taut for the next adventure in applicative basic physics.

The whole event leaving a very worried and shook up Dean on the ground. Half of his expertly crafted sand castle destroyed in his haste to stand up and uselessly run to Sam's aide.

“Fucking?... _fuck_. Sam?” Dean breathed before laughing at the man get right back on the swing for another go. This time leaping at a lower altitude. Jumping with gleeful enthusiasm, and sticking the landing.

It felt so good to watch Sam play around, despite the weird circumstances surrounding them. Dean watched his giant brother check in with him for a few seconds before he jogged over to the jungle gym and slaughtered the previous record for climbing. Getting to the top in less then five seconds and four steps. Then tucking his feet together and slipping down inside the dome cage without touching any of the poles on the way in. Quickly reaching up and launching himself right back through the same opening. Dean then whistled at his brother scaling up the shelter's wall to walk along the peek of the roof, admiring the view before hopping off of the roof and landing with another thump in the ground. Then parkouring his ass on the slide's roof next, using years of skill and technique to make the equipment and buildings into obstacles instead of the simple play things they were supporting. Dean winced after the fourth tree Sam scaled once he'd gotten used to scaling the structures. Poor guy's gonna feel that in the morning. Dean was not used to climbing, therefore, those muscles were unused and probably cramping already.

Sam's proud grin never faltered, but the second he slowed down, he felt the chill in the air settle on his sweating skin. Maybe he overdid it a pinch. His gaze landed on Dean which looked like a dark spot next to his boots. Sheepishly returning back to 'base'. Grateful that nothing chose to eat his brother while he was out messing around. Going into a squat next to Dean, he felt the age in his protesting muscles and bones, not as light or strong as he is in his proper body. He'll need to remember to take it easier next time.

Dean's castle was pretty impressive. Especially considering he only had a wooden spoon made from a matchstick and aluminum foil plate to work with to move the heavy sand. More detail then he could make out as his older brother stood back and spread his arms proudly for its display.

Sam lightly clapped his hands for the masterpiece. Unwilling to make the little guy deaf from the rapid clashing of hands for applause. A sound which could be considered loud even to other humans. That was the point of clapping. To be heard. Unfortunately, clapping might also alert anyone walking by to their presence. Sam laid his hands back down to both sides of Dean's area to steady his swaying body, and was breathing hard from all of the exertion earlier.

Dean caught a whiff of it and stumbled back a few steps. “Holy shit, Dude.” Waving a hand in front of his face. “Gonna have to dunk you in the river to get that stench off. Whew!”

Sam sent a bitchface at him. “It's _your_ sweat, Dean.” he reminded and saw Dean blow off the obvious facts.

“You are not getting into Baby reeking like that.” Dean ignored the taunt and searched for a drinking fountain... something. “There's an emergency jug of water in the trunk.” He said and backed up some more. Allowing Sam to gather up the boots so they could get going.

Sam was about to retort but saw Dean shivering down there. Arguing in the cold night air wasn't going to help his brother any, so he said, “Whatever. But you're getting dunked in a cup too. Sand isn't the cleanest substance in the world. You're probably staining my clothes, Pigpen.” There was no anger behind it, just mild teasing as he pulled the boots up and laced them. Then, took out the cell phone and figured out how to take a picture, got Dean in the shot and snapped one off before Dean could stop him. Tucking it back into his pocket and offering up that hand for Dean.

“Tempted to walk back...” Dean muttered, nose plugged, and backtracked his previous statement when Sam shrugged and started to stand to leave. He got onto the pro-offered hand and was brought up to the chest level again. The wide curtain of clothes were warm, so warm that they heated up the air around them and Dean hated to admit that the chill in the night was getting to him. Sweat smell was something he could deal with if it meant getting some kind of warmth in his bones. Damn, how quickly small people loose heat. It was a wonder any of them had survived a winter.

Sam opened the trunk and carefully set Dean down on a cloth charm bag. The only flat, clean-ish surface in there that wasn't holding up a gun or knife. Then wordlessly got out the water jug and looked around the area one more time to see if there were any voyeurs out before stripping off the shirts and using the stolen washcloth and water to get the worst of it off. Dabbing a bit of the shampoo in the rag and giving himself what Dean always called, a 'whores bath'. Doing the same wash/wipe down of his legs after he put on a new shirt, then new pants. All the while blushing at having to do this behind their black car parked in a lot next to a kiddie play park.

They'll have to hit up a laundromat sometime soon.

Dean dusted off the clothes but didn't know the first thing about washing these kinds of handmade clothes. Using the bottle cap of water to drink from first, then washed off his hands and face of the dust and dirt particles. Now that they were both fresh and fairly clean, they got into the Impala to warm up with her heaters. Dean waited until he got into Sam's room under the driver's seat to change into something new, with darker colors to blend in better with the dark store.

Coming up with a plan of action for the store now that it's well passed closing time.

Hopefully, Sabrina wouldn't stay overnight to defend her store. They planned on watching it for at least an hour or two to make sure. Neither brother mentioned they were going to have to risk their lives getting into that shop tonight, with a potentially dangerous and trigger happy woman. They were lucky she didn't call the cops on them yet, and, to make matters worse, she knew what Dean -ergo- Sam looked like, having met him twice in two days. She would have a much better chance at describing him to a sketch artist if she randomly chooses to do so. They _can not_ get caught.

Their only hope is that she's gone, and they are able to figure out what all was bought from the old lady's estate. Taking it out of the store without tripping any alarms, or alerting any neighbors to the break in and theft. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Sam drove them over to the street where the store was and parked down the way a bit. The whole town was quiet, even here on main street. The bars were on the other side of town, closer to the highway and the motel they'd stayed at to attract late night customers traveling through. It being a school night, they saw no one around, which suited them just fine. They could see the store in the distance and settled in for a stakeout. Dean was lounging on the dashboard and inhaled sharply when he noticed the multitude of clear stars overhead. The sparse city lights weren't enough to drown them out, and they mused at how the stars and distant galaxy's still looked the same despite how much the world had changed around them.

The one constant though all this... the twinkling stars.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only just recently figured out a tentative ending for this fic, so it will take a bit of time to whip it into shape.  
> question, does anyone think I should post this on DeviantArt as well? I don't know, honestly. It seems to be trickier and longer to update on that site then it is here. I'll do it if y'all think it's a good idea.


	9. Trying To Figure It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pocket's make great beds with a hand overtop, but beware unaware yawns.  
> Sabrina orders some pizza and gets an extra surprise or two with her order.  
> and sometimes cats can be assholes.

Chapter Nine:

Trying to Figure It Out

 

 

 

Stargazing is pretty damned cool, no matter what size you are. The brother's lives were usually bouts of boredom mixed in with death defying acts of bravery and heroism. Tonight, it might be a bit of both since the lights were still on at the shop, meaning their biggest obstacle was still alert and present. So of course, they had to wait. Because nothing says crucial life altering operation dealing with powerful unknown supernatural dangers, like waiting around in an old car for some lights to turn off.

Sam slouched down into the seat a bit more, sighing just to sigh. Hands had long since fallen from their vigilant and ready position at the steering wheel to lay limp at his sides. Likewise, Dean was still laying on the dash, head pillowed by his arms. Probably sleeping. Sam looked around himself for something to keep Dean warm up there, since he could just make out some tiny shivers from the small body. He had nothing fabric-like within easy reach besides the clothes on his back... oh.

“Hey Dean?” He whispered and got a tired grumble back. “You cold?”

“Freezing.” He muttered and turned to the side. “They sure are taking their sweet ass time.” His bangs fell in his face and he was too tired to complain or fix them again.

“Might be awhile...” Sam commented, shifting in place to lean up against the door, feet brought up to the seat and he hunkered down a bit more to get comfortable. “Did you want to, uh, get some shut eye?”

“Love to. It's only what,” He lifted up his wrist to look at a watch that wasn't there. “Right.” He mumbled and turned more fully to look down at his gigantic body half laying down in the seat, his brother's soul driving it. That will never be normal. “What time is it?”

Sam stared at Dean for a few seconds before remembering he had the watch now and checked it. “9:34.”

Dean fell back and groaned loudly. “Fuck... just go to bed already, ya witchy bitch!” Shaking a tiny fist into the air at all things annoying. He then turned to face Sam again and shivered involuntarily from the cold. “Store should have been shut down over an hour ago. What's she still doing up?”

Sam shrugged and folded his arms over his torso. “In any case, we still got some hours left to wait, and you're going to freeze to death before then.” Sam pointed out and reached a hand up and forward to Dean who jerked back from the sudden intrusion into his personal space. From his view, the hand came up unannounced out of the depths of an abyss.

“Holy – jezz, warn a guy!” Dean laid back down and sighed grumpily before sitting up and appraising the hand. “What's that for?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Playing patty-cake, what's it look like? Just get on, sleep in the pocket.”

Dean frowned at him. “Come again?”

Sam was seconds away from just grabbing Dean and putting him in there but he knew from experience, before this curse, Dean wouldn't do that unless there was no other choice. “I slept in there hundreds of times. You know it, I know it, everyone who knows us knows it. It's not weird, so don't make it weird.” He moved the hand closer. “Remember? It's just a sleeping bag. _You_ told me that.”

Dean sat up further, crossing his legs and frowning some more for good measure. It was pretty damned cold, and yeah, he never thought it was weird with Sam in the pocket, taking a snooze. So, yeah. “Fine.” He sounded 110% dramatic as he got to his feet and climbed aboard the huge hand to be ferried to the wide chest and lowered down in jolting movements. Dean was big and tall, and the Impala didn't suddenly grow more space for better sleeping arrangements. Sam's legs were crossed at the calf's because he didn't want to lay diagonal on the bench seat. Sam regretted using his right hand to hold Dean since that meant his elbow had to be shoved back in-between himself and the seat to get low enough. Dean saw the predicament and hopped off when it wasn't too far down and Sam shifted some more, making the chest under Dean's feet bounce a few times. Dean cursed just as many times, and waited for Sam to _stop moving for God's sake,_ to stand back up and get his bearings.

Turns out that will never happen since Sam apparently _needs_ to do silly things... like breath and shit. Apparently the heart needs to pump blood at the same time, so the chest went up and down, up and down with vibrations throughout. Dean bent his knees to lower the center of gravity, and bee-lined to the pocket before lifting up the thick layer of fabric and scooting inside. He felt every single breath hitch in Sam and knew that he was just as new to this. He wasn't worried. Being in the pocket was the same as before, but this time it's more horizontal, and the warmth was far more pronounced to his cold frame. He'd deny it till his dying day but it felt pretty damned awesome in that heated bed, snuggling so far down into it to escape the chilly air. Only the top of his ridiculous mop hairdo was seen from above.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Wanna give me your bag so it stops poking me with the hook?”

“Right.” Dean said and lifted the bag from over his head and laid it onto the proffered hand who dropped it to the floor.

“It'll be close to the room under there, when you need it.” Sam said and got comfortable again.

Dean heard the heart rate had picked up, but knew that it was temporary, and listened as it eventually evened out again. It helped him drift off as well, unconsciously matching its slowing pace until he was back to dozing again. Sam was probably dozing too, going by the steady silent breaths that drifted over his pocket. With Sam sleeping on the seat like this, it was very unlikely that he'd be able to shift around and squish Dean so that was somewhat comforting. Dean would get plenty of forewarning if Sam moved in his sleep. A sleepy grumble shook his space and he looked up and saw Sam's brow furrowed in sleep. Probably a bad dream but not a major nightmare. He laid a hand on the rising chest underneath and pat it a couple of times, slowly, practically petting and it seemed to work. A huge hand came into view and the chest hitched abruptly as Sam woke up sharply.

His mind filling in the story that had been going on in his head, that Dean was in trouble and trying to warn him by punching his chest and shouting. The initial dream was of Sam being strapped down to a table, and a huge faceless black mass was his captor and was pulling out scalpels and syringes. All frighteningly sharp and heading towards his front pocket, intent on cutting it open and grabbing Dean. The dream intensified at the feeling of real life punches and that had him on high alert in a second.

His dilating green eyes finally noticed the fact that there was no one holding him down, no faceless enemy, and Dean was safe, but then saw the startled look in the small face. Sam slumped back into the door behind him again, shifting minutely to get back into the comfortable position he was in. “Sorry.” He mumbled, “Sorry I woke you up.” And laid his hand over top of the pocket in an extra layer of protection. He wouldn't dare tell his brother the dream he just had. The hand felt the small bundle in the pocket move, and he was assured that his brother was safe. Then lifted up the hand before adjusting how its curved, and settled it back down like a cave that can't easily collapse. Coming up with a plausible reason for his wanting to cover up Dean, “This way,” he yawned, lifting Dean up a good few feet from his perspective before falling again. “This way, my sleeping mind wont think you moving is a bug or anything. My hand's weight will fool it into thinking it was me doing the moving.”

Dean froze at the thought of being thought of as a bug and shuddered. Reconsidering his idea to go poking giants in their sleep. He considered heading down to the nest of fabric in the room under the seat but he didn't want to hurt his brother's feelings. Dean turned around to lay on his stomach and looked out of the pocket's opening and saw his own thumb blocking part of the entrance. He could still get out, easily.

Freckles as big as silver dollars sprinkled all over the top and sides of the thumb, but he could only see the swirling pattern underneath clearly from his position. The thumb pad alone was as big as his torso. He reached a tentative hand up and grazed a few fingers into the grooves of the print. The thumb twitched a little and rested again. So Sam _could_ feel that. Hyper aware probably. Makes sense, people can detect the tiny bumps used in braille. And the difference between paper thicknesses down to the micro millimeter. Sam's breath eventually evened out again, thumb stroking the pocket's flap a few times before resting.

Dean tugged the flap from under the thumb and used it like a pillow, grinning at the pursed lip coming from the face beyond for 'stealing it'. Thumb tapping twice, barely more then muscle spasms in the last joint. Sam's probably not even aware he's moving so much. Dean flopped onto his side and yawned himself back to sleep. He felt safe here. His brother's here, and doing alright, and getting better at handling this whole situation.

Neither noticed the delivery boy driving down the street and arriving at the shop they were supposed to be staking out.

 

Sabrina couldn't shake the feeling of being watched all day long. Customers came and went, milling around her shop, and more then once, she became defensive in them looking over the things on the shelves. Reminding herself that she's here to _sell_. Anything and everything besides the cash register is for sale in her store, and customers should be encouraged to come in and find what they need. That man though... just made her feel exposed. Like he was studying _her_ instead of the more benign appreciation for how cute she looked in her outfit. _He_ was cute as well, and she'd initially hoped something would happen, if only for a night, but when he'd come back today...

She trembled again. Something felt so _off_ about him. Maybe he was telling the truth and he was actually a twin, but that didn't explain how he looked _exactly_ like his brother. Down to the freckles. She was a sucker for freckles and this young man had them in all the right places. Even a couple on his eyelids. So cute! Precious and perfect. Why did he have to turn out to be, a what, thief? Reporter? When he'd shown up yesterday he claimed to be working on a film. Some indie thing where they needed props for the background sets. He didn't offer to buy anything besides a coffee, which he never showed up to do.

“Why are all the good looking ones crazy?” She sighed and walked around her store for the umpteenth time. Feeling those strange energies coming from the wall of supplies. She'd amassed quite a collection of things, proud of every purchase, but the fact that the mystery man was interested in the things she'd gotten from that estate sale had made her nervous. Was what he was saying about it true? Was it bad juju? She had no idea and it made her pace around again. There'd been no sign that the strange man (or men?) would be coming back so she was about ready to call it a night when her shops bell rang out. Right. Pizza.

She could see out of the top halves of all of the shops front windows and front door and the teenage delivery boy was alone. She still crept up to the door and looked up and down the street, wishing not for the first time that she'd listened to her friend and install some security cameras for the alley between her shop and the next one over, or for the inside of her store as well. That was just basic common sense! She'll go shopping for cameras in the morning. Right now? The promise of a warm pizza beckoned, and she opened the door with a smile.

“Hey, Brandon.” She greeted and he grinned back.

“Got your pineapple and Canadian bacon right here.” He said and the familiar exchange was a balm to her nervousness from before.

“May Mother Earth bless you child. That smells _delicious_.” She said and ushered him inside. “Come on, it's cold out there tonight.”

He walked with her to the rear of the main room of the store where there was a space big enough for him to set down the bag, she opened the till and pulled out the cash to pay him for the pizza and tip.

“You know, I wish I had your job.” She said wistfully, “Out on the road, seeing new people. The only people I get are tourists who don't care about what it means to be Wiccan. They see me and think I have all the answers to their love life or that I can do a séance for them. I'm here to help them help themselves, but they think I should solve all their problems without even buying anything! I have to remind them I sell the things that will help, but they want freebies.”

“I wish I had _your_ job, the people I deliver to are usually half dressed, crazy, frat boys, all of the above, or I'm sent there as a prank. Meaning I don't see any money at all for the trip, meaning I even lost money because I paid for the gas to get there. Hell, it's hard to find these places that don't have their porch light on to see the numbers, no house numbers at all most times, and on top of that - they don't answer their phone when I call to ask! Or don't answer me when I'm just trying to let them know their pizza is at the door. Shit, most of the time, I'm damned lucky to get a tip. I usually get the crazies, inconsiderate people. I wish I had the luxury of being able to kick assholes out of my store like you do.”

She nodded, understanding. “Funny you should say that, I had one of those earlier. That's why I'm so jumpy!”

He knew all about it and wordlessly handed over the small bag of bread-sticks while they talked. “Had a guy earlier who was tripping balls out at the motel earlier. Looking like he'd never seen the sun before. I was lucky he had the cash in hand and didn't freak out when I took it from him. Never can tell sometimes. I mean, I know how to handle my stash. But that guy, I'd be surprised if I don't find him swinging from the trees at the park.” Brandon chuckled to himself and added, “You're like the only one in this town that's not batshit crazy.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him, fixing up her hair in an over the top way, and smouldered. “Why _thank you_.” chuckling along with him. She knew that she was sometimes seen as the town witch, but was left alone for the most part. People probably thinking that she'll curse the hell out of them if they say anything to her face. She may be new here, but she pays her taxes and obeys the laws and deserves the same amount of respect as anyone else. “But yeah, it sounds rough dealing with people some days.” She smiled. “Some of them even spout out the lie, 'The Customer is Always Right!' but I can tell you, I've had nearly every kind of job out there, and the customer is _never_ right when they spit that nonsensical phrase out.”

“Tell me about it.” He laughed. Something catching his eye. A lamp-like statue. “Hey, you got one of those old fashioned hookahs?”

She turned her head slightly to the side, studying his face and then looking behind him for a second to see if the coast was clear. “What do you want it for?” She asked, already suspecting the answer. He didn't look like a tobacco smoker which is usually what hookahs are for. One puff is usually equal to five times that in cigarettes.

He grinned, already reading in her expression she had what he wanted. “Well, I could use a little rest, relaxation, if you know what I mean?”

She smirked back. “Right this way.” and leads him inside. “Oh, almost forgot.” She hands over the cash and he hands over the pizza to complete the official transaction. While she's pulling out a smaller slice to nibble on, famished from being on high alert all day long, he gives her a second to start in on her dinner, and goes to the old wooden shelf and browses around. Picking up this and that. She comes over.

“Like it? I got these from all over the country. These two here aren't for sale, but this whole shelf is. The others are for decoration. Ambiance. The incense holders are a best seller.”

He rests a hand on the wooden shelf and gives an impressed nod.

Sabrina smiles at him, he's not bad looking but still far too young for her tastes. Not ripe enough, but his bone structure suggests in a few years, he'll have to fight them off. For now, he's got his whole life ahead of him. It's too bad though, that youth is wasted on the young. She'd give anything to be a teen again. Even with the crappy jobs they have to work at.

Brandon pokes around the shop, wishing he had this kind of stability in his life. He's not even out of high school yet and had had 4 jobs before. This one for only a few months but he hates it already. He thinks it would be cool to own his own place, make his own hours, sell whatever he wants, like this cool shit.

“You know, I don't think I had ever officially introduced myself,” She chuckles, handing over an antique hookah that looks more like an oil lamp to untrained eyes. “My name is Sabrina.” Her free hand out in invitation, once she moved the hookah to her other arm. He shook it with respect.

“Brandon, but you already knew that.” Tugging at the name tag on his shirt. “This thing is beautiful. My old bong broke and a buddy of mine said to try hookahs. Said their tits for getting high.” He made finger guns and smirked. “Ever try it out? Does this one still work?”

Sabrina's smile dropped a little. “No, I hadn't... did you.. wanna mess around?” She jiggled it in front of herself.

His eyebrows lifted and he took a step back. “Look, listen, I'm not into any of that weird...”

She realized how that sounded and gaped, rushing to correct herself. “No! No, I meant did you want to try it before you buy it! I'm not asking you for for _that. Mother Earth,_ you're like half my age!” Images of her being arrested for soliciting a minor while discussing illegal drugs raced through her head. “I swear I didn't mean it like that.”

He paused at the door, watching how she seemed truly regretful for her poor choice of words. Seeing how she was more flustered then he was set his mind at ease. He gave a nod to assuage her fears. “Sure. We can give it a test spin. Got some in the car.” And shrugged. The companionable grin from before coming back.

He walked out of the store and she sighed with relief. The kid could have called the cops on her and she'd have no way of proving her innocence. She's sure she couldn't get busted for the drugs since they were never in her possession, but the threat of being arrested might make her public enemy number one and who knows what would happen to her shop if she weren't here to defend it? Besides, harmful lying was not a trait that was acceptable by Wiccans and she was trying to be a good one. Connect with spirits and the world's energies and finding a peaceful balance in her life and others. She personally thought cannabis should be legal for it's health benefits, and the way it can free your mind. Not to mention, the kid looked like he could use some to deal with his stressful job in a safe place. Even though hookahs were meant for tobacco use, she actually hoped he wouldn't use it for that, only cannabis. That's the one natural drug that is actually usful for many medicinal benefits. Add to it the fact that it is non-lethal and non-addictive. Unlike tobacco, which can kill you and everyone around you. Tobacco stains teeth, walls, and one's spirit, with the life ruining addiction. She'd mastered her tobacco demons long ago and wished no one smoked. Cannabis had helped her transition from the cancer sticks to Mother Earth's healing plant.

The side effect of getting a high from it is an added bonus. Opens the mind and helps channel the spirits and energies around her. She could almost feel Mother Earth calling to her already, and wondered if she had anymore in her own personal stash. They were pretty close to the state border so it would be fairly easy to grab some next weekend.

Brandon returned and settled on the floor of the shop. Apparently he wanted to do it within the front door's reach instead of in a better secured place. No matter. She closed the curtains and flipped the 'open' sign around to 'closed'. Finally closing up shop.

Sabrina brought over some distilled water, and set it up with some helpful hints. Pointing out the differences in regular hookahs and this older one.

Brandon only loaded up enough for a hit or two each, since he still had to drive home afterwards and didn't want to get completely high just yet. This was simply a test run to make sure the tubes had no holes in them, and that the glass hadn't cracked anywhere. The old lady seemed pretty cool and so he held out the nozzle for her to try some. She shook her head but he just shook the end of it harder and more insistent. “Ladies first.”

“Oh, why not.” She chuckled and sat down cross legged opposite him. Accepting it and taking a brief respectful hit.

“Atta girl.” He grinned at his favorite customer, and accepted it next. Letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Watching the smoke drift up and dissipate into the air. His head swam a bit and he let it roll around and down in front of himself. Chuckling. Feeling high already even if they'd only done one hit each. If it was this great so soon, hell, he'd buy two. Maybe it had some leftovers from the last time someone used it? But what could it be? 'Cause he'd had this kind of weed before and it usually took a good half hour to kick in properly. This was the last run of the day so his boss already knew he'd be going home right after. Logging out using his tablet in the car. He had time to kill but this was too fast of a result. Did she drug him? Something stronger then weed?

Sabrina had never tried the hookah before, usually preferring a simple pipe that was a gift. She felt herself become dizzy and lightheaded, vision swimming. A hand came to her forehead and she wiped her face off of some sudden sweat, skin feeling greasy. Hot flashes? Already? She's too young for those yet! Only 38 for Pete's sake! She heard Brandon start to breath a little shallowly too, and he hung his head forward boneless. Sinking out of consciousness, she felt herself go down as well, sinking to her side away from him. What was in that stuff? Was it dangerous? She lifted her hand again, running her fingers through her long hair and then looking at the teenager who slumped onto his side like a spilled bag of laundry. Her heart started to race as she tried to figure out what was going on. The stuff he loaded up looked like harmless cannabis! She knows that it's harmless! Why would he poison her along with himself?

The world spun out of sight.

 

A stripped stray cat jumped up onto the hood of the Impala and woke up the smaller Winchester. The slight jolt to the car's structure was enough to notice even over the even rise and fall of his bed's chest. “Whaazzat?” Dean muttered and pushed against the pocket's ceiling, pulling himself up and into the air again, shivering slightly at the breeze that Sam created with his breaths. He wiggled just past the thumb and looked up and out at the world beyond.

At first all he saw was the five o'clock shadow of his jaw uphill from himself, and the monolithic rise of the long bench seat's backrest. He heard faint scratches on metal and scowled. Something was hurting his Baby. He push-pulled himself free of the pocket and leaned against the index finger to keep his balance on the continuously rising and falling landscape. He looked around himself, and spotted movement out of the windshield.

The sight of a stray cat shouldn't have sent fear down his spine, but the sheer size of it and it's sudden intent stare on him was unnerving at best. He tore his eyes away from the black and gray striped nightmare and double checked all the windows and sighed with relief that they were still shut tight. Sam slept on but his fingers twitched a little where Dean's hands gripped.

The cat stalked closer and hunched down. Everything aimed right at Dean, and windshield or no windshield, Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. The cat crept closer and put paws to the glass, pushing at it and sniffing around. It then crouched down again and leaped up onto the roof of the car and peered down at Dean and his brother. Meowing loudly before disappearing again. Dean tracked its movements by the thumps of its soft feet. Leaping down to the trunk next to meow in agitation at not being able to find a way in. It scratched at the glass and jumped back onto the roof.

“Ha!” Dean pointed a finger at the pissed feline once it reemerged onto the hood again. It meowed loudly at him. Flopping down and looking for all the world that it just wanted to play with him. “Fat chance, Felix!”

He had no time to react when the ground started to lift dramatically, and a great inhale was heard at the same time the hand that he was leaning on tilted up abruptly. Dean immediately lost his balance, landing in the curl of the fingers as the hand was swept up and towards Sam's yawning mouth. Split seconds to see that Sam's eyes were closed tight and the air was being sucked in at an alarming rate. Dean's small body was swept forward and against the open mouth, his hands reaching up quickly to grab hold of the upper lip as his feet lifted to kick out at the massive dark mouth. Anything to keep him out! Fingers grasping at the taught lip, he only just managed to grab hold with his left hand, right one finding a tooth to push against but slipping off of that next.

Air still swept past him in a single great gust, as a terrified shout left his own mouth, the hand didn't flatten out and push him the rest of the way inside, which was the only thing saving Dean's life. His feet kicked about, landing a few blows on the slippery tongue before there was that pause in the yawn where the exhale would happen. A stutter in the air flow and the hand jerked down a half inch, Dean fell back into the bend in the fingers, and it made his feet slip forward and past the lower teeth when the mouth started to come back down. He scrambled backwards and thankfully the hand lowered quickly out and away from that loud clash of teeth. A gust of air leaving the nose blew his bangs back from his face as he laid half on and half off of the hand now resting lax on the chest.

Sam's eyes were struggling to come to focus on what the hell just happened because he thought there was something trying to get _inside_ his mouth. Disgusting! He sat up more and felt like spitting out whatever it was when he'd seen Dean scramble back further. A look of utter fear in his face. He must have seen it too.

Sam's voice came out in a croak. “What the hell tried to get in my mouth?”

Dean was far from answering questions at the moment. He was nearly bitten in half by a mouth that could do that without even realizing.

Sam licked at his teeth, searching for whatever the thing was, and with his left hand, poked around the insides of his cheeks, nothing showed up and he hoped it was nothing, but of course wont risk having an insect or some shit inside his mouth without making damn sure. He looked back down at Dean who must have seen the thing and knew where it went. Or would be able to find it easier. He moved his pinky finger to scoot Dean into his hand again and lifted him towards his mouth. “Do ya see it?”

Dean couldn't believe it. Could. Not. Believe. It. He'd only just escaped those jaws of death and now Sam's bringing him right back to it! “Stop!” He yelped, the mouth had opened up wide enough to show off all of the teeth this time, sharp eye teeth and canines big as his hand, crushing molars in the back, flat front teeth that could cut him in half, tongue flattening down to make room for him. And beyond all that, the dark gaping hole that nothing can escape from. Dean shoved at the teeth above again and slipped right off, landing on his elbows onto the wide tongue for a few seconds of terror. The warm breath washed over him, and he'd hurt his knees on the rough bottom teeth lifting up from the slippery and uneven floor. Ignoring all that, he frantically pushed back from staring down the deep red tunnel and felt the tongue come up abruptly from below and block the entrance to the throat, air being diverted to the nose above, Sam made a gagging noise and half pushed Dean out of the mouth before stilling all his conscious movements. Dean used the angled tongue to push himself the rest of the way out, stepping down to the lower lip to avoid anymore contact with those lower teeth, and dove out of the mouth and off to the side, far out of the way. He was tumbling down too fast past Sam's jaw and then past his neck since there was nothing to stop his fall. But Sam shrugged his shoulders up on instinct and Dean landed in-between the collars and felt the nauseating swoop of the giant leaning forward and twisting in his seat.

“Dean?!” Sam's shout deafened him but he couldn't respond because of the dizzying vertigo from his rising spot that was swaying left and right, searching the floor between the seat and in front of the seat for his tiny body. “Dean? Where are you?! Say something!” Sam leaned forward and that had Dean almost flipping over the collar and into the floor well.

His leg slipped under the coat's collar and kept him upright long enough to grip onto the leather's fold along the shoulder. “Sam!” He half coughed out. Feeling the body stiffen and ears alert overhead. He wiggled in place, finding an uncovered part of skin at the scruffy neck and punched it. “Right here!” He called up and punched again for good measure. Collapsing between the two collars and seeing his world shift again overhead. The jaw turning to shade him from sight.

Sam made a noise which could very well be saying, 'of course I can't see him when he's that close.' And moved it away again, leaning to his right side to be able to see his shoulder in the mirror. Not seeing anything he frowned and a few fingers traced along the neckline as gently as possible before finally touching a tuft of hair and a couple of tiny hands punch and push back like he'd hurt him. Sam remembered to lower his voice and asked, “Are you ok?”

Dean was still trying to calm down from all of the things that happened in those few seconds. Cursed at by a cat many times his size, nearly bit in half, inhaled, pushed into his own mouth, slipping down and then falling, landing, tossed about wildly then nearly falling again then smushed by the pressure from clothes on both sides and now. Finally, stillness. His lungs finally started to get enough air and instead of talking, he just punched at the neck twice to signal he was fine. The shoulder underneath him slumped down but thankfully, he was still pretty wedged far down between the shirts folded collar and the coats upturned one. He stared upwards at the muscle ticking jaw that really needed a shave.

“Are you.. uh, are you going to come out?” Sam whispered. He had no idea why Dean freaked out. Sam just wanted to find out what the hell tried to get into his mouth then slowly pieced it together. Dean was in his hand when he looked down. He was _already_ in his hand... right there, when he yawned. He had no idea the first time, anything could have happened. He could have killed Dean. _Fuck_.

“Dean? I think I know... uh, I'm so sorry.” He angled the mirror this way and that but unable to see his tiny brother. “I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. You know I'd never...” words felt so ineffectual. The fact of the matter was is that he wasn't thinking straight. He felt something in his mouth, saw someone that could take a closer look and went for it. So stupid. “I didn't... fuck. I didn't hurt you did I?”

Dean could hear and feel how upset the broken words were. Mind racing at the fact that the throat right next to him right now could have swallowed him whole without even chewing first. Would it be cannibalism if it's done by his own body? What a weird fucking thought. Shut up.

Dean looked up and caught a corner of the left eye, it was tearing up. He put his hands on each of the collars on both sides and hoisted himself into a sit, facing the rear view mirror. Seeing the image of his own face lock on to the one he's using. The mirror was pretty far away from him, but he could still see little Sammy sitting on his shoulder. His head struggling once again to make the weird sight make sense.

The giant hand came up into view again and the fingers curled slightly, hesitant for what to do next. Pick him up, or make a platform. He debated with himself. Why should Dean trust him?

Those hands had just proven to Dean how dangerous they could be, fast they could move. Without a thought, without even looking. Sam looked so damned heartbroken the longer Dean stayed frozen. Hand falling back down out of sight. The shoulder he's on moving along with it.

Sam just barely kept himself from leaning forward in despair. “Fuck.” he muttered. Looking down at his lap. “I, Dean I really am sorry. I uh, I don't know what you want to do now.” He shrugged and winced at the motion. Everything he's doing is impacting Dean right now. “I understand if you want to stay here. I can check out that shop alone.”

Dean felt his chest get tight. Sam's taking this very hard. One small part of Dean's mind shouted, 'Well he should be!' and he cursed it out for being right. The longer Dean stays quiet, the worse it's getting. He feels the head nod once, like Sam got his answer and the hand came up again. Moving very slowly, he flatted out the coat's collar and curled the fingers into a bowl. And rather then scoop Dean up against his will, he waited and felt Dean move on over by himself. Dean saw the world spin around but at a much better slower pace then before, as the hand turned to a more natural position and he was lowered down to the passenger side area first after Sam swung his legs into the foot well to sit up properly. Then the hand was lowered even further to the floor in front of the passenger's seat, tilting downwards and making Dean dismount or be dumped off.

The feet slid further away as if Sam was worried he'd step on him now. Sam lowered his hands and put on the shoes again, lacing them up in regular knots and yanking them tight so they wouldn't come off.

“You'll probably feel safer in the panic room.” The voice drifted down from overhead and Dean felt the car move side to side as Sam was doing something up there. Dean cowered back at the sight of his gun being swung overhead and the sound of it being tucked away into the coat. Then he heard fabric shuffle some more and figured out that Sam was getting ready to head out _now_. Leaving him behind.

“Sam?” His voice didn't carry well and Sam gave no indication that he heard him. Or if he did, he was ignoring him. Which was worse?

From his low view, Dean saw the right hand reach forward and grip the keys. Resting there for a second as Sam exhaled and the keys were taken out of the ignition and pocketed. “I got this.” Sam said and without further ado, opened up the car door and got out. Car shifting side to side and the door slamming shut nearly deafening.

“Sam?!” Dean shouted and ran towards the driver's side door to see his brother out there, run his fingers through his hair a few times in a self calming way before taking a deep breath and walking away. “No, wait... Sam?! Sam!” Dean shouted and ran forward again, tiny fists punching at the plastic on the bottom of the door. “Sam don't you leave me in here! Sam!”

But it was too late. Sam was going at it alone. Dean uselessly checked his pocket for his cell phone and cursed aloud. Kicking at the seat support before stalking to the other side of the car. Looking up and out of the windows. Spotting the glove compartment where he knew he had a number of charged burner phones. Coming up with a plan to open the drawer and dig one out, call his idiot brother back. Wait. He could just follow after him instead... “I'm a damned idiot!” He cursed and ran for the panic room. He forgot all about the secret entrance into and out of the car without needing any human's help. Double checking to make sure the satchel was where Sam had dropped it off and flung it back over his shoulder. He ran down the pipe toward the underside entrance and thrust the hook into the ridge, sliding down to the pavement below. He jerked his hand a few times along the line and finally dislodged the hook, he wound it up as he ran towards the retreating feet. Sam's walk was going for casual which helped a little, but Dean was still fucking minuscule and it took him twenty steps to equal one of Sam's.

“Sam!” Dean shouted as he ran. The giant never stopped. “Sammy! Fucks sake slow down!” He shouted again and that was the exact wrong thing to do when he heard a low growl nearby. Fucking fuck. The _cat!_ He bolted for the nearest cover in Sam's direction but had to turn at the last second to avoid getting pounced on by the cat who leaped after him. It spun around and chased at a bit of garbage that it saw before zeroing in on Dean who was off and running again. “Son of a bitch!” he yelped as he sprinted like mad for the buildings. There was no cover at all on the sidewalk. He saw his best chance for survival and headed for the corner of the nearest building. Holding out his hook and spinning it around in circles over himself like a lasso. It hit one of the cat's paws and Dean yanked it out when he felt it catch. All of his body weight put into the one move. The cat yowled in pain, spinning away from the thing that nicked one of it's fingers. Dean dove into the water drain pipe and quickly pulled on the line to reel in the fish hook. The cat pranced around it, hissing loudly before following the movements to Dean inside the drain pipe.

Dean was fucking glad he made it just in time. Still jolting when the big cat began to pounce at its entrance. 14 pounds of clawed fury, to Dean's mere ounces of stubborn Hunter. The cat hissed and bat at the pipe. Dean pulled out his knife from the bag and banged on the metal to scare it away but that only attracted more attention. Alerting it to just how far in he was.

A giant paw the size of his torso was thrust into his pipe and he had to cower back even further. The claws were easily as long as his blade and the damned thing had _five_ of them to his one! It hissed again and Dean saw its paw lay flat down and went forward to stab at it. The cat barely reacted beyond turning its paw to the side and caught a claw in his pants.

“No! Fuck you, cat!” He shouted and stabbed at the paw repeatedly. Knife coming down on top of the paw over and over again. Being hampered by the thick fur coat. Fuck he's going to die here. Sam's never gonna find him again. Never get back to his own body but at least Sam'll stay human. He tried to look on the bright side as he stabbed and cursed. He felt a rumble in the ground and the cat was hissing and spitting. The claw that had caught on his leg was now jamming itself against the walls of the pipe. It was trying to leap backwards but momentarily stuck with the bad angle. Dean flipped his knife blade the other way at a new target and cut off the pant leg above the claw. Now free of it, he kicked out of the tube of cloth and scooted back again. The paw pulled out fully and the beast growled and yowled at something even bigger beyond his sight. A loud crashing sound of cans falling and boxes tumbling. More yowls and ear piercing shrieks preceded a heavy thump of flesh. Dean's eyes went wide. Something even bigger then the cat just kicked its ass and by the sound of it, the cat is scrambling away. Loud echoing yowls as it ran away at top speed.

Then all that he heard was something breathing heavily and could just picture the animal that was larger then the cat. How it's probably gloating right now. Scratching sounds on pavement. Then a mightily loud thump just outside of his prison. The air throbbed in his space from the displaced air. As quiet as humanly possible, he scooted as far back as he could and looked up at the tunnel above. Fuck, it probably went straight to the roof and there'd be no way in hell he could climb up and out of it. His hook and line were nowhere long enough and there was no place for a hook to snag. Smooth metal all the way up. All he had to hide in was 8 inches of drainage pipe leading out to the sewer drain a few feet away. He supposes he could try his luck down there, push his hook into a crack and then swing down in, and pray that the larger animal doesn't move the hook, or can fit a limb into the opening to get at him. Maybe the second thing doesn't even know he's here? It could have been a fight for territory?

Dean stayed deathly silent as the much larger animal beyond panted and a soft moan let out. Dean clutched onto his knife so tight his knuckles were white under all the mud and yuck from inside the water drain.

Another moan escaped into the cold air and it formed into words. “I'm so sorry.” the voice echoed in a croaking whisper. So sad and soft.

Dean frowned. Straining to hear more. He heard soft sobs echo inside his spot and all sounds outside had a tinny quality to it, making it hard to tell where exactly they were coming from.

He took a chance and inched his way closer to the opening when he heard the person sniffle. Who the hell would be sitting here? His hope leapt, even as his heart sank, to hear such sadness. What would be the odds that a homeless person would chase away a cat and then cry about it? His fears and thoughts were confirmed when he poked his head out from the drain and saw Sam sitting against the wall of the building, cradling the scrap of fabric that was once part of his pantleg. Sam thinks the cat ate him. Ate him and all that's left is that bit of cloth.

He watched as his younger brother used the back of his hand to wipe away snot and tears, hugging the fabric closer to himself. Sobs wracking his body into hunching down, knees bending and juddering along. “So sorry, Dean... I couldn't save you... I should have... fuck. I should have taken you with me.” Sam's voice was coming out between gasps and coughs.

Dean made sure he still had his bag and nothing else was lost before he sprinted out of the pipe towards his brother. He'd give anything to keep that sadness and despair away from his Sammy.

Sam's hand dropped to his side and a scowl entered his face, looking down the darkened alleyway towards where Dean suspected the cat ran. Sam gripped something from inside his coat pocket and lifted up the pistol, instantly aimed it down into the darkness, teeth gnashing and spit flying as he went rigid with anger.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted up at the same moment and the gun was aimed down at the new sound interrupting Sam's anger.

The gun very nearly went off but Sam jerked it to the side. Flinging it out of his hand the instant he saw that it wasn't another damned cat come to claim the last scrap. The gun clattered noisily to the ground and made Dean jump back at the sounds and fast movements. He saw a hand shoot down at him and had just a second to brace himself as long fingers curled around him from chest to feet. Sweeping him up into the air faster then any amusement park ride and he gasped at the speed of it all.

Sam pulled the body in close to his chest and cupped it there. “Dean! Oh Dean. DeanDean youre alive? You're alive?” The hands pulled him away and brought him up closer to the tear-filled eyes. Several falling even as Sam tried to see clearly. “You're alive? Tell me I'm not loosing my mind here. Please? Tell me?”

“It's fine. Yeah I'm here, Sammy.” Dean managed to say, choking up himself. The hands loosened again and turned into a bowl. “You saved my life Pint size.” Dean grinned upwards. “Sorry about your pants...” he trailed off and shown off his leg that had a scratch running down the side that he didn't even notice. Guessing that the cat really did get him when it got its claw into his pant leg. “I'll get you a new pair. Or uh, I'll trade one of the other Littles for one since I know shit about making clothes from scratch.” Dean found himself babbling to fill in the empty space.

Sam's eyes were still leaking tears. “Shut up.” He said and pulled Dean closer, under his chin.

Several long moments passed. A dozen more sniffles above him. Gigantic fingers sometimes coming into his space to graze feather light touches on his leg or back, proving he existed without having to see. Eventually Dean patted the fingers after he heard the heart calm down and the river of tears slow to a trickle. Dean pulled out a scrap of fabric from the satchel that he knew Sam kept in there for just such an emergency. Wrapping it around the scratch on his leg that didn't really bleed a whole lot, just stung. Thankfully, the claw barely broke the skin. It could have easily been _so much worse._

Dean pat the chin above him again and Sam finally snapped back to the present and pulled him away and down about mid level, giving the small Hunter some space back. Now Sam looked embarrassed more then anything. Broke down and cried in the alley, but, he _did think_ that he was somehow responsible for putting Dean's very small life at risk, even if it was the _exact opposite_ thing he wanted to happen. At least Dean wasn't overly hurt, and clothes meant nothing if Dean's life was at risk. Sam would do anything for his big brother. Give anything. And it looked as though that feeling was mutual. Dean risked his life to get to him. Braved the frightening huge world by himself, and took on a cat for him. Sam felt like he was going to tear up all over again but swallowed it down. Time for that later.

“I'm good. You good?” Dean called up and saw Sam nod a few times, gaining more confidence each time.

“Awesome, 'cause we've got work to do.” Dean said with a cocky grin, and used a nearby finger to get to his feet again. Straightening out the completely dirtied and rumpled clothes, and tossing the knife from one hand to the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (more then half of my cats were former strays and I think they make amazing pets. but I have no doubt in my mind that they would pounce on a tiny dude. no doubt whatsoever. small things get pounced on, it's not their fault!)
> 
> Chapter title is Figure It Out by Royal Blood and it was used for the promo video for season 10 Deanmon.  
> this was too long for a title -  
> Nothing better to do  
> When I'm stuck on you  
> And still I'm here  
> Trying to figure it out


	10. Dude Looks Like a Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all.

Chapter Ten:

Dude Looks Like a Lady

 

 

It took another few minutes to calm down and get their heads on straight after a life threatening scare like that. Sam had no idea if Dean would rather stay in his hands or somewhere else. Somewhere safer. He pulled his older brother away to look him in the eyes again. Doubting that his brother was as fine as he said.

Dean brushed back the long bangs and sighed exasperatedly at them yet again. All this moving around isn't helping him keep it behind his ears. “When we get back to normal you are getting a haircut. Can't see a damn thing past this mane.”

Sam chuckled, relieved that Dean seems fine enough to joke around, and used a fingertip to ruffle up the long locks in the same way that Dean always did to him. Mussing it up even further. Dean growled upwards and pulled out his knife with his right hand and clutched a handful of hair with his left.

Sam's brows raised in surprise. He should have saw it coming. At least he has a viable counter attack. “I could buzz your hair too, ya know. Got the shaving kit in the car.”

“Mine would get back to normal faster then yours.” Dean adjusted his grip on the knife.

Right. Sam relented. Time to back off. “Ok, point taken.”

Dean nodded curtly and lowered the silver knife and let go of the hair. Like negotiating a truce. Don't mess with a man's hair. Dean sheathed the knife again and wordlessly indicated his desired location for transportation. The pocket seemed best, since the roller coaster ride on the shoulder earlier. Sam definitely has better balance when he's up there. He can keep the bird perch, Dean's going for stability and the tactical advantage of having cover. Definitely not because these extreme heights are getting to him and making him nauseous from the natural swoops and sways of a living monument in motion. Of course not...

Sam brought Dean closer to his front pocket again, where the small Hunter got in without complaint. Getting himself comfortable and curled his fingers on the lip of it for stability as he kept a look out. Watching every move Sam makes from there. He originally planned on giving pointers to sneaking around but remembered just who he was riding with. Sam grew up in the shadows, knows how to get places unseen and unheard. After a minute, Dean was silently taking notes from his little brother. He thought he had the skill down pat, he was an amateur compared to Sam. Not one sound from the huge body besides the whoosh of the lungs and the heartbeat behind him. Even those seemed to be quieter now. _Damn_.

They crept along, slipping down the long cluttered alleyway between Sabrina's shop and the next one over. The side door to the shop was sealed shut with several deadbolts so that was a no-go. Sam just couldn't get his fingers to work with the lock picks and Dean found them closer to metal poles. Unwieldy at first, until Sam held the first guiding one down, opening the lock for the other thin metal picks. Dean used both hands to maneuver the main one up and down, pushing tumblers into place. He paused and looked into the hole of the lock and considered an alternative. Pulling the pick out, he reached in with his hand sideways and it slipped right in. Dean's brows shot right up as he looked up at the underside of Sam's chin as he kept watch for anyone spying on the brothers.

Dean pulled his hand back out, pushed up the sleeve so it wouldn't get so dirty on the lock's oil and grime, and reached back in as far as his arm would go. Using his fingers, and using up his strength, moving the remaining tumblers. It went faster, if a little tiring. Dean pat the thumb next to him and Sam raised him up to the next lock to keep going. Sam grinned at Dean's new method. They got the two deadbolts unlocked after a good ten minutes only to find a large metal pole in place just on the other side that was wedged against the floor.

“Paranoid witch.” Dean muttered when his brother brought him in closer to his stomach and leaned his body into the door with silent shoves, testing the strength.

“She's got a good reason to be paranoid.” Sam muttered and found that he wasn't able to open the door enough to reach a hand in and move the pole out of the way. The door was only opened up an inch.

“Put me down, I'll go take a look around. Maybe I can get it out of the way.” Sam was reluctant to have Dean inside by himself but trusted his brother. So Dean was set onto the ground to peek inside. Nothing promising. The door groaned from Sam leaning into it to open it up just a fraction further. Dean wasted no time slipping through it sideways and pulling the pack in with him. Sam released his death grip on the door handle and crouched down on the other side. Blocking the light from the alleyway. Dean craned his neck up at the enormous door that soared into the sky and backed up from it to get a better view of what he was dealing with. He cursed to himself, he couldn't see how he alone could remove the metal pole since it was absolutely enormous and heavy. The thickness of a tree and far taller then any he'd seen before. No way could he budge that. The base of it was being blocked by a stack of cinder blocks that was about a foot tall. “Fuck.” He jogged further in, looking up at very tall stacks of boxes and feeling like at any second, they would loose their balance and crush him into nothing. Swallowing back the idea, he ventured past an old couch and heard silence in the main store. If he strained his hearing, he could detect at least one human there. Breathing softly like they were asleep. Instead of going into the store even more, he turned around and bolted for the door again past the boxes that he now could see were filled with decorations. Bursting at the seams for some.

Dean came back outside instead of going it alone. His climbing skills didn't suddenly get better over the day and he would need Sam there with him when they find the thing that's causing all of this. If the object was any bigger or heavier then a golf ball, there was no way he could bring it back on his own.

Sam sighed with relief when he saw his tiny body through the crack in the door, pushing it open just a bit wider for his brother to slip through again. His hand was laid out without any need for Dean to voice a request, and Dean got on without any hesitation. Sam was glad that Dean wasn't as scared of him, or overly wary. Sam lifted him back up towards his pocket but Dean just pointed at his collar. “You sure?” Sam whispered, Dean shrugged and it appeared that he would climb his way up if Sam stayed still too long. Dean had to hold on tight as the hand shot up that last half foot and rested awkwardly against the opposite shoulder for the little man to dismount safely, and another minute or two to get settled. “Between the collars is best.”

“I know, I know.” Dean grouched as he lifted one leg after the other, straddling the leather collar that was higher then he thought it would be. Sam must have lifted it up since the car. Blocking out the cold no doubt. Dean struggled to grip the thick leather material that refused to bend just because his fingers wanted it too. Settling for sticking his fingers into the flannel just past it instead of wrestling with the immovable leather. Damn near falling against the thick neck on the other side. Sam's hand shot up as a safety net until Dean flopped down to a sit on the curved surface. Same place as before, but this time it wasn't an accident and he wasn't scared from the fall. He leaned against the warm neck once he got settled.

Sam grinned, feeling Dean relax a bit after the awkward climb. “You good? Want a drink? Cigar? Foot massage?”

“Screw you, Sasquatch. Let's get going already.” Arms folded petulantly. He punched the neck when he heard a muffled snicker, but then clutched at the shirt's neckline hem when the body straightened up. Fingers clutching at the fabric in a white knuckled grip when the giant body launched itself into the air when he stood up tall. Sam started walking towards the back first, confirming for himself that there was no back door, noticing it had been bricked up into a wall. He grumbled and then headed towards the front of the store. This would have been so much easier sneaking in if they didn't have a street and bystanders to worry about.

Sam, the ass, put an extra bounce in his step, knowing that Dean couldn't fall unless the little guy wanted to. If he didn't tease Dean every once in awhile, it appeared that Dean was going to assume that Sam was on the verge of a panic attack every ten minutes. Though that might have been true at the start of the day... and admittedly into the afternoon, and sure, a very justified stint when he thought Dean had been turned into a cat toy, by now he was getting used to seeing the world this high up. Interacting with people became slightly easier to do if he thought of them as just fellow Littles. Nothing really separated the two kinds of people then their sizes.

The smaller community just happened to be more communal and giving. Slightly more willing to work together because they had one common, constantly looming threat, the human race. They had to join forces or potentially be taken out, one by one. Survival is technically possible if they are alone, but it is always going to be very hard and lonely. Any injury or illness could easily be a death sentence. They had to work together or die.

Humans don't have to worry about that very much. Humans span the entire globe, can live anywhere at all, and it's not at all hard to find them. One would have to purposefully travel to the remotest of locations in the world and avoid the signs of humanity that are already there. There is hardly a spot on earth where humans haven't left some kind of mark. Sadly, usually, that mark ends up being pollution. But even if they're everywhere, people are almost driven the other way, _away_ from community. Seeking privacy and their own space. Trying to find a moments alone from the hustle and bustle around them. They would band together if they'd had an equally unpredictable and dangerous enemy too. But for the most part, it's easier to live as a human versus a Little. The natural elements are easier to tame if you've got size on your side. But on the other side of the coin, it is sometimes easier to be a Little, provided they found a house to live inside, and humans to provide. Human houses keep out nearly all the extreme elements, wind, rain, summer heat and winter cold, and food is far easier to find if you've got humans that aren't careful about how they store it.

It was almost a toss up which life is harder or easier. They just, are what they are _._

Sam was one of very few people in the entire world that got to see what life is like in both. Now Dean's reluctantly joining in. He just hopes that this harrowing time in each other's bodies and worlds doesn't change the dynamic that the brothers have with each other. That Dean doesn't decide that Sam would be better off away from all forms of danger instead of Hunting with him. The thought made Sam stumble just before rounding the front of the building.

Sam caught Dean's confused eyes looking up at him, asking why the hold up. Of course Dean would charge into Hunts like this. Unknown outcomes and dangers around every corner. It's just who Dean is. He can't _not_ help people, save the day by getting rid of the threats to humanity, as well as threats to other sentient beings. But, if he takes this new perspective and thinks Sam shouldn't have to handle it anymore... He doesn't know if he could stop him or convince him otherwise. Sam shook as he thought of his older brother refusing to take him with. Forcing Dean to either retire being a Hunter and stop saving people, or worse, that he'll just drop Sam off at the hotel or Impala while he goes it alone. Dean had done it for years after all, it wouldn't be too hard for Dean to go back to it. Sam trembled thinking of all the things he'd done wrong, showing Dean just how dangerous it is being small. Hell, if this isn't a sure fire way to convince Dean it's too big of a job for someone Sam's size...

“Fucking hell, Sammy.” Dean cussed and shifted in his seat at the collar now that it stopped bouncing around so much. “Ok, I want the damned pocket. This spot is for the birds.”

Sam bit his lip. Crap. Does Dean suspect what was going through his head? That shoulders aren't safe for anyone? He wanted to protest moving his brother but felt bad keeping him somewhere where he obviously doesn't want to be. So Sam lifted up his hand and Dean clambered on, only to be dropped once again into the pocket.

After Dean stood upright again and the bag was adjusted better around his neck and against his side, he realized Sam hadn't spoken a word. The feeling in the air was a bit morose. “Hey, Pint size, you ok?” Dean asked, turning his head to the side to see the face overhead in a better angle instead of upside-down.

Sam raised a hand, a finger brought up on the other side of the pocket to gently rest there without squishing his brother. Dean shifted around, clearly wondering what Sam's intentions are. He found his voice, even if it was strained, “Promise me you wont stop me from Hunting when we turn back.”

“Where did that come from?”

“It's just, I know you don't like being that size, and probably reinforcing the idea you have sometimes, that it's too dangerous for me... but _I can handle it_. I have _been_ handling it. I don't want you to leave me behind. Like, uhh, like I did to you...” Sam trailed off, looking up at the street and down the block. “It was wrong of me to leave you behind. I made a mistake. Being little doesn't mean you're weak.”

Dean was still a bit lost. It hurt to see that Sam was beating himself up so much about this. “I know that. I trust you. If I didn't I wouldn't have gone back into Hunting.”

Sam nodded once. He had to get that out of the way first.

“So, let's get our asses in there and get back to normal.” Dean elbowed the wide chest behind him. “I'm no good small, and you're making me look bad.” Seeing the relief turn to one of befuddlement in those green eyes. “Earlier, you were jumping all over that playground like it was nothing. I can't do that! But, you proved that my body can, so yeah.” He wiggled the bag, hook catching on the outside of the pocket since Dean doesn't know how to store it correctly. “I can't climb like a monkey or use this size to any advantage. I doubt I could get used to it or learn it, it's all you. You're skills are built for this life better then I am. I'm built more for wooing witnesses, fighting, and subsequently being thrown through walls, and generally getting the shit kicked out of me. We each got our talents.” He smirked up at him.

“Sure.” Sam rolled his eyes. He pat the pocket with the finger and got a shove back.

“Hey...” Dean trailed off and pointed upwards, past Sam's face.

Sam felt a little self conscious and wiped off his mouth, like he had something there. Flashing back to his mishap with Dean and the yawn, flushing all over again from embarrassment. Then at Dean's laugh and continuous pointing, he followed the minuscule finger and looked upwards. About ten feet off the ground were the remains of a fire escape and it's former supporting bolts and hardware, leading up to the second floor. “Huh.” He stood back, gauging the handholds presenting themselves and then back down at Dean. “Hang on tight.” He said and then lifted up the pocket flap from behind Dean's head to button his brother in.

“Hey! What's the big idea, Bitch?” Dean started punching the cloth prison he was in.

“I don't want you falling out.” Sam said and took several steps back from the wall. “You might want to brace yourself.”

“Oh shit...” The voice was muffled and he felt the little man squirm around, wedging himself into the corner. Instantly regretting the suggestion that Sam uses one of his talents to scale up the wall.

Sam took a running jump at the wall and his fingers caught onto a bolt in his right hand, and a bit of metal with his left foot, hoisting himself up to more cracks in the brickwork like an expert mountain climber.

“ _Sammy!_ ” Dean shouted, the wall brushing against his pocket space and Sam bowed away from it. So close to squishing his brother!

“Sorry, just gotta..” He trailed off and before he lost his upward momentum in those seconds, he latched onto the underside of the remains of the fire escapes stairs. Half rotten metal jutting out in poles and crumbling grid-work for the steps. Knowing instinctively which ones would hold, he laced fingers through the step and pulled himself up. Kicking against the wall underneath for the right angle to lift his torso up and onto the narrow platform. Nearly crushing his brother twice more against the edge of the step because the shirt kept on moving on him. Snagging on metal here and there at the shirt's bottom, and his long sleeves. The leather jacket was moving around too much as well. He regretted not taking the coat off and lifting the sleeves up first to get them out of the way. Gritting his teeth and panting with exertion. Trying like mad to keep his tiny brother safe.

He finally got his legs swinging and with each arc, inched his torso up just a bit more. His hands pulling and pushing himself upwards. Leg kicked against the air till his knee finally found another good support and he made it to the platform. Spinning in place and huffing great lungfuls of air as he sat down on it, facing outwards.

His chest heaved with every breath, trying to calm back down from his scare and the awkward climb. He would have been up in a fraction of time if he didn't have to worry about Dean, but there was no way in hell he would leave him behind again. “Man, we are so high up now. Wanna see the view?” He poked the other side of the pocket, away from Dean who irritably punched back.

“Absolutely not!”

Sam chuckled and once he got his breath back, it was a simple matter of moving down the six inch stone ledge that ran around the entire building for decoration. “Yeah, you wouldn't want to see this next part.” Sam considered. From Dean's POV, if he looked down, there would be nothing but air for 20+ feet. For a Little, that's far _far_ higher. Sam couldn't walk normally, so he shuffled sideways to the closest window and tested it. It wasn't locked so he spun in place to face it, hands gripping the edges of the window to keep himself from falling backwards. Standing only on the tips of his toes, he trailed his fingers down to the bottom of the window and lifted it up the old frame. He'd seen Dean sneak in through windows a few times but this window was tiny in comparison. Sam quietly moved the curtains aside and saw what appeared to be the bathroom beyond. The opening was small, so he opted to take Dean out of the pocket for this next part. He leaned into the window first, into the warm room so Dean wouldn't be able to see out at the mind melting abyss that is the alley below, and unbuttoned the pocket.

Dean fixed his long brown bangs and scowled up at his gigantic little brother. He got onto the proffered hand and was brought out as far away from the window as Sam could reach. The nothingness underneath the shaking hand made Dean's knees quake. Sure there was the floor down there, but he was about four feet from the ground. Or, over 70 feet worth of space until he'd hit the unforgivably hard tile floor below. Dean grabbed hold of the nearest finger in a renewed death grip, until the hand lowered down close to the side of the sink. However, since the sink was a stand alone porcelain style, it didn't have any kind of counter around it. Adding one more layer of crap to this situation, it was wet with soapy water, so Dean immediately slipped down into the bowl of it when he dismounted. Sam's hand lunged after him but it was too far.

“I'll get you out, Dean. Just gimme a second.” He grunted and wiggled his way into the window.

The sight of it made Dean forget to be ticked about the sudden fall. Sam was struggling to get his waist past the window sill outside, an inch too big all around the opening, legs kicking about in the air while his arms were pushing against the sides of the window. Jacket bunching up around his shoulders. “You look like toothpaste coming out of the tube!”

Sam wouldn't give that assessment of his current situation the response it deserved, beyond a tongue stuck out. “Says the guy that can fit _inside_ a tube of toothpaste.” Raising a challenging brow at the little man who kept on chuckling. Finally, all the wiggling paid off and his waist fit though the window. He curled and flipped his top half downwards to get his legs free without having to hand crawl on the tips of his fingers the rest of the way. He thought he did a pretty good flip but Dean kept on giggling. Sam sat for a few moments on the bathroom floor to catch his breath after everything. He realized Dean couldn't see him from down here so he crept along the floor around to the knobs and turned on the cold water at full blast. Hearing the surprised yelp coming from within.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, hook released from the bag and thrown out at nothing under the porcelain sink bowl. Hook dangling in the air and slipping harmlessly around since there was nothing it could catch onto. Sam got to his knees to see the prank himself, and finally turned off the water. Dean wasn't as drenched as he hoped, but still pretty wet and half shivering.

“You Bitch!” Dean cussed, shaking out water droplets from his clothes.

“Sorry, you wanted _warm_ water?” He asked politely and turned it on. Getting Dean all over again for a minute. Dean fought against it but succumbed when it actually felt better then the cold. Warming up the clothes with a renewed scowl.

Sam turned it off again and grabbed a clean hand towel, pulling the bag away so his brother doesn't get skewered by the fish hook, he set about wrapping Dean up in it like a burrito and drying off the small Hunter. Rolling him side to side within the towel. “There's a hairdryer here.” Sam offered and thought better of it. “Nah. that would make too much noise.”

Dean swore up at him. Struggling all the while to figure out which way was up when there was a break in the tumbling. “Laugh now, Pint size. Revenge is a dish best served _cold_.”

“Oh, I'm shaking in your boots. You needed a shower anyway.” Sam grinned and cuddled the tiny man inside the hand towel till he couldn't see him anymore. Going back to slowly rolling him back and forth in its cottony folds till he was dry. Unwrapping it and seeing just how tousled he got. “Oh God, that's cute.” Sam smirked and with a finger, tried to fix the hair for Dean but got tiny hands batting the finger away. “Ok, quit clowning around Dean, we got work to do.”

“Thanks for the idea.” Dean's scowl turned plotting and allowed Sam to transfer him from that damned towel back up to the pocket. A good clown prank is the perfect payback. He just didn't know how to do it yet.

“Say something?” Sam asked quietly, going back to sneaking around the room and figuring out the layout of the place from quick glances outside the door.

“Nope.” Dean replied back. Fixing the bangs again and plucking off chunks of lint balls from his clothes. The static charge was annoying but giving him even more ideas on future pranks. He got his game face on after removing a stubborn lint ball from it.

The steps were light for Sam, but for Dean he felt every impact travel up to his pocket. Both of them slipped back into the Hunt. At least this one didn't deal with blood thirsty monsters. Small favors.

They both snap to attention at the shrill scream from downstairs. Break time's over. Sam double checks and makes sure that Dean's safe before running from the room, past the living room cluttered with knickknacks and old furniture to the stairs leading down. Throwing open the door just as a teenage boy is trying to come up.

“What are you doing here?!” the kid yells, voice pitched high and terrified. “Stay back! You did this?”

“Did what?” Sam sputtered out, hands raised up and out to catch the kids flailing arms and half-assed punches. He manages to grab hold of the wrists and push them together as the boy is screaming in his ears.

“Rape! Rape!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam shouts back. “Dude? I'm not trying to - what happened? Why are you here?” This teenage boy should not be here at all. He noticed the name tag and a memory comes up. “Brandon? Pizza delivery guy Brandon? What happened? Are you hurt?” Sam asks, still holding onto the wrists of the writhing teenage boy. Frowning at how ineffectual his punches have been. Not using his muscles to full potential, trying to claw at him with blunt fingernails instead. Was he never in a boy's wrestling fight before?

“This is all your fault! If you hadn't shown up here...” He said and tried to wiggle out of the grip. “Just don't hurt me! Take all the money in the cash register you want! Just don't hurt me!”

“What the hell are you talking about? Where's the store owner? Sabrina?”

The boy stopped thrashing about for a second and gaped up at him. “I'm Sabrina!” he said with that ear piercing shriek. Panic lacing every word and move. “Let me _go!_ ”

“You're Sabrina?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at the terrified boy. “Fuck. You really are Sabrina.”

“If you let me go, you can have all the money in the safe too!”

Sam sighed and hung his head, looking behind her at the rest of the store. It happened again. “Where's the woman? I mean, where are you.” Sam growled at himself. “Where did he go?”

Sabrina slowed her protests, eyes going wide. “You mean... you don't know?”

“No! I came in here to find the cursed object and fix me and my brother. I don't know what you did or where anyone went. Brandon was here?”

She seemed to calm down a fraction. Going a little limp in his hands so he very gently lifted them up and said, “If I let you go, promise you wont freak out... even more. I'm here to help. I swear I'm here to help. Whatever changed you and Brandon, swapped your bodies, swapped me and my brother as well.”

The teenagers eyes went wide and she/he nodded. “I believe you.” She whispered. Running it all through her head. Sam saw that the kid/woman was calming down and released the wrists. Her hands went up to stroke at long hair that wasn't there, fingers dancing all over her scalp and face. Pulling at the clothes. “This is nuts. I can't believe....” She looked around.

“Ok, Sabrina?” He got her attention. “My name is Sam. My brother is Dean. This is his body I'm in. You met Dean yesterday and the reason he didn't show up for the coffee, is because we were both knocked out by whatever it is that's here. The thing that you bought.”

“You're not journalists?” Sam shook his head. “Or working for a movie?” He smirked briefly then shook his head again. “Who are you?”

“We are uh, we're the good guys. We are Hunters. We go after evil and destroy it. In any form. What you bought isn't necessarily _evil,_ but it is dangerous, as you can see.” He lifted his arms out and put a hand on the thin shoulder. “Now, you're on board? You want to get your body back? We can do that.”

She nodded, a number of emotions and thoughts all vying for attention but though it all, she latched onto Sam's words because he was promising some kind of resolution to this. That he believed her despite what she looked like and apparently went through it himself. He clearly cared about her and Brandon and what happened to them.

“I thought being young was good, that kids are wasting their youth. But I don't want this!” She cried out in escalating panic.

“It's going to be alright! It's fine! All we gotta do is track down Brandon, get him back here and figure out how to reverse this!” Sam said, blocking the teenage boy's path to the apartment upstairs. “We can't run away, ignore the problem and hope it goes away.”

She pouted at him and swung the hips out. “And how are you going to reverse this?!” She patted her hips then stilled her hand. Dreading what she looks like. “I do not want to grow up as a teenage boy! They are disgusting! Rude! Smelly! And the hormones are out of control! This!” she waved her hand vaguely in front of the pants. “This damned thing has a mind of its own! It's possessed!”

Dean snickered from inside the pocket.

“It's up, it's down! I don't know what it's doing! Just cut it off of me!”

Both men straightened up and cupped their own manhood's and they were trying really hard not to take offense to that. She had to get it out of her system. Sam thought to poor Brandon again. Shit. What that kid's going through...

“Listen, Brandon... er sorry, Sabrina. I gotta get Brandon back here. Where does he live?”

“And what am I supposed to do?!”

“Stay here. Right here. And don't touch _anything_ at all.” He said and saw her pace. Eyes darting everywhere. “Now think, where does Brandon live?”

“How the hell should I know? He's just the pizza boy!” She shouted and her hands went back down. Patting the pockets. “Oh.” she said and pulled out a duct tape wallet. “Tis might help.”

Sam sighed, leaning against the counter top. He raised a hand and accepted the wallet, opening it up and seeing the library card inside first, grinning at how well worn it was. Brandon was a smart kid. Then several movie stubs, a wad of ones and fives, no doubt for change doing his job, and a sealed condom. Very smart kid. Sam flipped through the handmade duct tape pockets of the wallet and peeled off a drivers permit that was stuck to one side. “Bingo.” He read the address and asked for the phone book. She came over and helpfully pointed out the streets.

Sam drew out a simple map of what streets to take and went over the verbal directions a few times. She didn't know why the need. Anyone would be able to follow the streets. Perhaps he hadn't driven much? His brother took care of the driving? Was sam's body unable to drive at all? Paralyzed? She looked him up and down, trying to find the tells of why he was acting like this was new to him. Why Dean hadn't mentioned a brother yesterday.

She was finally calming down and went to sit on her chair behind the cash register. Looking at her hands. “I don't know what this means.” she muttered.

“What what means?” Sam asked, coming over.

“I'm a Wiccan, and I do believe in magic, but this... I didn't know this is possible. Did I do this somehow?”

“It's unlikely. Did you have a talent for it before? When you were a little boy.. err girl, _girl_ sorry! Sorry.”

She frowned at him for the honest mistake and let it slide. “No. My friend got me into it. But you can fix this? You promise?”

“We'll try our best.”

“You keep saying you have a brother. Where did he go in all this? Where's your body? How do I know this isn't some elaborate hoax?”

“Does it feel like a hoax?”

“I don't know...” she admitted.

“Listen, there's all kinds of things out there. Good and bad, and I believe that you are one of the good ones. That you want to help people. You wouldn't have opened this shop if you didn't care about people. You just... you just accidentally bought the wrong thing from an estate sale. You didn't know what it was.” His voice was soothing to her ears and she warmed to his concern and understanding.

“If I didn't buy those things. None of this would have happened. You wouldn't have swapped places with your brother, I wouldn't be looking like a boy band reject.” She chuckled. “I'm sorry.” She whispered and he waved it off.

“It's not a problem. Well, it's not a walk in the park, but no one is dying from this curse. I just gotta get Brandon over here and we'll fix it. By the way, who all else was in your store? Someone else might have been effected by it.”

“I don't know, a number of people.” she shrugged. “You better go get that boy before he does something in my body.” She shuddered. “I thought it was a bad trip. He was shouting about being poisoned and ran out the door before I could stop him.”

“Poisoned?”

She nodded. “But that hookah is harmless, I cleaned it out right after I bought it, and hadn't had any problems with it. I cleansed it myself with sage smudge.”

Sam saw the glass thing in the center of the floor and crouched down to look at it critically. He felt a jab in his pocket and angled it away from the girl, slipping in a finger to open it up.

Dean peered up and around. Looking at the hookah and taking a bigger whiff of the outside air. “Oh my God! Sammy, she and Brandon were tripping when they switched!” Dean kept his voice down but the hilarity of the situation wasn't lost. “Should have just told her it was a tainted batch of MJ, and to drink lots of water, have some snacks while we went after the boy.”

Sam whispered back, “Good idea to use on the kid.” And winked. He got up again and walked to the door. Saying over his shoulder, “Leaving now. Don't go anywhere till I get back.”

He left the store out of the front door and looked up and down the street. No sign of Brandon's stolen body, but the busted up car he was driving earlier delivering pizzas was still parked out front. Apparently he didn't want to go back inside and ask her for his keys. So, he's wallet less, key less and scared. “Where would he go without his things...”

“He's got Sabrina's ID and money. Maybe he went out for a joyride?” Dean suggested and peered out at the world again. Everything still looked as massive and scary as it did before, but he's learning how to deal with it. At least he and Sam didn't swap genders and were closer in age then these two people.

“Worth a shot. I don't think he'd go home yet. If he's walking, that's a three mile jog. The bar is where I'd go if I was a newly drivers licensed teenager.”

“Oh that poor kid. We gotta save him from his stupidity right now.” Dean shook his head. Teenage boys aren't the most observant species out there, and likely don't realize how hard ladies have it. Especially in bars when they look as hot as Sabrina does. “They are going to eat him alive.” Dean shook himself out. “What are you waiting for? Lets go save the damsel in distress!”

Sam sprinted to the Impala, hand cupped protectively over Dean's pocket when the poor guy was felt bouncing around in there with no safety handle. He unlocked the Impala, got in and revved the engine. Pulling out with all speed only to screech to a halt at the end of the street. “Fuck.” He muttered.

“What's the hold up?”

“I don't know where the bar is from here.”

“For the love of...” Dean grouched and peered outside the windshield and noticed a few people down the block that were laughing loud and a bit too happily.

“That way.” They both said at once and Sam drove down the few promising blocks. Pulling up to the bar who was filled with laughing people, varying degrees of drunkenness.

Sam placed his hand protectively over the pocket again, as he weaved in and out of the tight crowd, trying to find the poor dumb teenager and sure enough, Sabrina was chugging shot after shot, being egged on by everyone around. Her body looked like it had been knocking them back since walking in the door. No doubt needing a drink after turning into a woman, but, they should have cut him off by now.

Different patrons were shouting out jovially, “'Bout time you loosened up and hung out with us!”

“So is it true you can cast spells on people? Turn em into shit? Cause my wife is already half toad!”

“Turn my husband into a pig! So he can finally bring home the bacon!” More laughs as poor Brandon was loosing the battle to stay upright in his seat. Grinning, but completely in his own world. Single minded focus on getting as many drinks in him as possible. No doubt, the pot he'd/she'd smoked before the swap didn't really help him any. Munchies and cotton tongue at once.

“I'll turn you all into fish!” He crowed and got cheers from everyone, “Y'all drink like them anyway!”

“Brandon!” Sam shouted and the woman looked over, grinning and waving in Sam's general direction. It took a lot of squinting and weaving his head around to see past everyone before he recognized Sam. “Acid trip dude!”

Sam cocked his head to the side and felt more then heard Dean laugh at that. Dean got a finger poked at him to hush up as he maneuvered his way on over to the drunken festivities. “Brandon... I mean, Mrs. Sabrina.”

Brandon squinted some more, her body was threatening to slip off the bar stool and onto the floor so Sam grabbed his shoulders to right him again. The crowd hissed at the spoil sport that's ruining the fun. Sam blushed furiously at all of the attention he was getting and felt Dean stiffen up, no doubt feeling the tingling on his neck that said people were looking at the pocket and Sam out there. Thankfully, since Sam was in Dean's body and Dean was much larger then Sabrina, Sam had no trouble easing the teenage boy off the stool and into his other side, away from Dean's front shirt pocket.

“Come on, time to get you home.”

“Idonwannago!” He slurred and pushed off of Sam's grip.

“It's time for your meds.” Sam said and nodded at the other people standing around them, not helping in the least.

One young lady shoved a few of the big guys out of Sam's way and looked apologetic. “We're sorry we egged on your mother, dear.” And reached for Brandon's other arm. “She shouldn't take medication while she's still drunk.”

“Yes, I know.” Sam said, glad that with the addition of this one lady, the rest of them went back to their own business. A look of guilt crossing a few faces for their actions, others still shouted from the corners about letting the old broad have some fun but Sam ignored them all in favor of getting the kid out of there.

“You got a car?” The lady asked, managing to get Brandon's attention.

“You're cute.” Brandon leered at her and winked. “Wanna go some'ere?”

“Sorry, Ma'am, I don't swing that way.” She grinned to herself, having heard that line several times today but this was the first time coming from a middle aged woman. She briefly wondered if this was going to be just another thing she had to deal with whenever she went out for a drink with friends. Why can't people leave women be in bars? They aren't there for men's pleasure, they are there to have fun. She and her friends didn't interfere with the older woman because she seemed to be loving the attention. Still, she wished she'd stepped in sooner. She hated having to bat off creepy guys and now cougars apparently. At least her son had some manners. “Maybe you could find someone closer to your age?” She suggested as she helped Sam bring the older woman outside.

“Awww, don't be like that!” Brandon attempted to wink again but ended up blinking several times.

“Sabrina.” Sam said a little forcefully, getting Brandon's attention again. “Is that any way to speak to someone?”

The kid frowned dramatically and hung his head. “No.” He whispered. “I'm sorry, you're a very nice, sexy, hot -”

“And that's enough from you.” Sam grit his teeth and hoisted up the rest of Sabrina's weight into his arms, bridal style. “Thank you, Miss. My car's right over here, the black one, mind helping me -?”

“Sure, sure.” She grinned at him, understanding that he was in for a difficult night with his mother. She took the keys half dangling from his front pocket when he indicated the location and unlocked the doors for him, opening up the back so the woman could lay down and not interfere with his driving. “Good luck. And I'm sorry again for -”

“It's alright.” Sam said and buckled in the now half asleep woman. He knew this night might effect how the town see's poor Sabrina in the future, he had to help with that image, “This isn't usual behavior for her. She just heard some startling news and was trying to cope with it. It wont happen again.”

The young lady grinned and pat his shoulder and went back inside where a new drinking game was starting.

“You're meany mean... meany.” Brandon muttered, feebly punching the back of his seat when Sam got into the driver's side again.

Sam sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel and catching his brother's movement. Tucking the pocket's flap back behind Dean's head to see him better in there. “You ok?” He whispered and got a couple of thumbs up.

“Never better Ennie Meany.” Smirking at his poor excuse for a joke. “Now lets get Moe back to Minny.” And pat the chest behind him.

Sam rolled his eyes and carefully drove on back, braking for a long moment at stop signs, looking behind the seat to see that Brandon was out like a light. One problem down. He'd hate to have to tie down the kid just to keep him still while they figure this stuff out. The shop wasn't far, so they got there within five minutes and Sabrina was at the door, worrying her hands in the teenager's shirt.

“You got him? Her?” She asked, clearly trying to stave off a panic attack.

“We're good. Little help?” He asked and tugged and pulled the woman's body closer to himself to lift Brandon up. She gaped at the sight for a second before remembering that Sam can't exactly open up doors with his hands full and ushered him inside.

Brandon was set down on a couch that Sabrina had stored in her own break room. Little more then a storage room with odds and ends for the different seasons of the year. Pagan holidays as well as the traditional ones had decorations piled up in boxes for the window displays. The couch was cleared and Sabrina's body snuggled into it for a second before flopping over with the legs going everywhere. Just like a teen's. Sabrina pushed Sam aside to fix the long dress to cover up the legs better. Tutting at the embarrassing position. Hoisting one leg after the other together and blushing.

“So that's what I really look like to other people.” She whispered more to herself.

“You have more class then this... and I, I know the feeling.” Sam said and set a hand on her shoulder. “It was a, well, a huge shock for me too. My brother had it worse.” Sam left it at that. He turned from the teen and walked back towards the shop again. Sabrina followed after, gaze going around the room alongside him. “Now. You have to bring out everything that you bought from that sale.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Ok, Fine, One Chick Flick Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The objects are all collected, moment of truth.

Chapter Eleven:

Ok, Fine, One Chick Flick Moment

 

 

“Sammy?” Dean said, nudging for good measure to get his brother's attention. Sam stiffened up with a hand raising to cup the outside of the pocket.

“I'll uh, I'll be right back.” He said and excused himself to the stairs leading up the the apartment. “Bathroom.”

Sabrina frowned at his sudden departure but let him be, taking that moment to go back to the couch where her body rested. Standing there and staring at the sleeping form. She was trying to wrap her head around all this and attempted to remember what all happened that could have caused this. Surely the life she was leading was a good pure one? Sabrina sat on the arm of the couch and stared off into the middle distance. Thinking.

Sam ran a shaky hand through his spiky hair and not for the last time forgot that it wasn't his own long hair. He ruffled it and no doubt made the style worse. Finally he arrived back upstairs and sat down at a chair that had a lamp table next to it with some random magazines strewn about, piling them up into a neat stack, he made his brother a chair out of them before opening up the pocket and waiting a moment for Dean to give an indication that it was ok to let in some fingers. Sam pulled Dean out of the pocket and brought him over to the table slowly so he wouldn't loose his balance. Dean still ended up stumbling anyway but made it on over to the magazines and sat down.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, moving the bag over next to him on the seat to alleviate some of its weight from his neck.

“Yeah? What's up?”

“Uh, I was wondering how you're doing?”

Sam looked away for a second, trying to parse out why he was being asked that kind of question. Aiming his attention back down to Dean who was now leaning forward with his elbows on the knees. A posture that made him appear to be starting a serious conversation. “Fine.” Sam said shrugging and drumming his fingers on the table. The vibrations felt by Dean. His knee started bouncing the longer Dean was quiet and contemplative. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” His knee bounced more and his fingers scratched less idly at the tabletop.

“Dude, I'm fine. It's just, I could uh, I could tell that you weren't doing so hot. Did you want to talk about it?”

“About what? I'm good? What's this about anyway? We should just get back down there and do this.”

“Sammy, slow down. Breath.”

Sam's brow lowered. “I'm _fine_. Why do you keep telling me to breath?”

“Because ya know, you're starting to get a little twitchy.” Dean said, watching the giant person in front of him fidget more before taking a breath and holding it behind pursed shut lips. Going rigid. “Dude? It's alright. Look, it was scary for me too, alright?”

“What was?” Sam's mild irritation turning to worry. “What did I do wrong? You're hurt?”

“Sam! Stop worrying about me for five seconds. I swear you're going to have a heart attack. Look, I get it. There was a lot of people in that bar, and everyone was shoving and shouting and there was a lot going on. It's alright now. It's just me. It's just me, Sammy.” Deans hands were out in a calming gesture.

Sam scoffed and turned away. “I'm fine. Never better. Now can we please get on with this?”

“Yeah, I just wanted you to know it's alright to freak out. It's just you and me. No one's watching you right now.”

Sam sighed out some of the tension. He forced his knee to stop jumping and his eyes drifted more then once to the floor. To the hidden areas that could have served as safe zones, away from humans. A lifetime of making sure there were bolt holes readily available. Dean didn't have that instinct. To seek out hidden spaces. His worry jumping back up and he huffed an irritated breath. Hands ruffling the hair and fixing his jacket. Working himself up into a frenzy of motion. Finally, he burst.

“I can't!” he half shouted, hand slapping over his mouth as his eyes went wide, looking at the door leading downstairs. The continued silence confirmed that Sabrina didn't hear him.

Dean was so close to getting his brother to vent out the frustrations. Gently poking him a bit more to let off the steam. “Can't what? Save me? Save the day? It's not your job to save the world, Sammy.”

“I just can't! I can't do what you do. I know I said it before but... what if something had gone wrong at the bar? It was so loud and crowded and there were so many things going on and I couldn't even hear you if you said anything and what if Brandon didn't want to go with me? I would have had to knock him out and basically kidnap him! How would that have looked? I could have been arrested for manhandling him and kidnapping and then you would have been found and taken and _fuck,_ man. I could have lost you any number of ways in that bar! Someone running into me unexpectedly, or I trip and fall, or tick someone off and they try to pick a fight with me, and then you would have died if I couldn't block every punch and even if I put you down before the fight you would have gotten hurt or killed trying to escape all those people and I wouldn't have been able to save you! You would have died and I couldn't do anything to help!”

Sam kept on going, running through all the worries big and small that happened that he was bottling up and soldiering though, and through it all, Dean was silent, nodding along in understanding. The more his younger brother talked, the less he twitched and moved, getting his emotions out in this healthy way, rather then keeping them pent up. When it looked like Sam was winding down Dean got up and walked over to the hand that had lost its energy to scratch or tap at the tabletop. Sam's eyes were elsewhere as he breathed, chest moving with each one until it slowed naturally. It felt cathartic to let it all out, even if it was to the one person that he was trying to protect from all danger. Even ones that never came.

Dean placed his hands on the curved hand, just leaving them there and looking up at Sam who finally noticed the touch. When the silent moment started to drag out too long, Dean spoke up. “I was scared too, but you know what got me through it?”

Sam shook his head mutely.

“You did. You put your big boy pants on and took charge. And did a good job of it too. Because let's see, what are the facts?” He lifted up a hand then a finger that Sam could barely see. “A – you did not let me get squished. Check, done. Then two – you did not get arrested. Check, done.” Fingers lifting for each point.

Sam scoffed again, looking up and away. “Just because it didn't happen doesn't mean -”

Dean cut him off by continuing the list. “You entered the bar with your head held high and found the kid. You saved said kid from getting alcohol poisoning. You didn't wait until he was taken advantage of, or until everyone else lost interest. He would have ended up in far worse shape if you didn't get there and do something in time. Then, you managed to get the hottest chick there to help you out, and don't think I didn't feel her hand in your pockets. Eh eh?” Deans eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “Hound dog. What did I tell you? I'm the cute one.”

Sam let out a laugh. “In your dreams.” Rolling his eyes.

Dean pretended not to hear him and finished up what he was going to say, “And last but not least, you saved Sabrina's honor by telling them that this wasn't usual behavior. She might have been harassed in the future if you said nothing at all, or said the wrong thing just for a speedy getaway. You saved the day and got a girls number to boot.”

“I did not.” Sam frowned at Dean.

“Check your pocket, Casanova.” Dean winked but it was lost due to his small size. “I heard the paper crinkle and when she was pulling out the keys, she put it inside.” Dean nodded downwards and sure enough, when Sam checked, he found a folded piece of paper inside with a phone number. Dean enjoyed watching his brother's cheeks warm up. A blush forming. “Of course, you have only an hour at most to call her up, then I'll be back in that body. So, thanks for hooking a brother up.”

Sam's blush morphed into a bitchface. He was right. If all went well, Dean would be the one to get the girl. Life's not fair. But, on the upside, if they were stuck like this, Dean would be the one waiting back in the Impala while Sam had some fun. Blush returning to his cheeks as he crinkled up the paper again and shoved it deep into the pocket. “Shut up.”

Dean smirked and folded his arms. “Alright, let's get back downstairs and finish this. Got a hot date to plan.”

Sam shook his head fondly at his brother's antics and pinched the back of Dean's jacket, letting him dangle just a few inches over the tabletop for a few seconds just to tease him, Dean couldn't quite reach the fingers overhead so he refolded his arms to keep himself from slipping right out of the jacket and falling those few inches. It wouldn't hurt more then his pride, but still. He could see that he was outmatched by two fingers. He was no longer as intimidated by the size of his old body that Sam's in, knowing that even if it's only been a day, Sam's been learning very quickly how to use it and adapt to the whole size difference. Dean was still coming to terms with it, but trusting in his brother to have his back. In this case, literally. Giving up, _for now_ , he hung there with his own bitchface right back at him. The prank war soon to follow this hunt will be of _epic_ proportions 'cause Sammy is just digging that hole deeper and deeper.

Sam brought his other hand underneath Dean for the trip back to his pocket, letting his feet dangle over the opening for a second before lowering him all the way in. He chuckled at the tiny elbow being jabbed at him in retaliation. Feeling better about this whole mess. He had to give it to him, Dean knew the right thing to say to get him to feel centered again. Sam stood up, and Dean flopped down to a sit from the fast movements, earning Sam another few elbow jabs. “Sorry.”

“Not sorry.” Dean griped. Secretly glad that Sam was doing better. The heart rate thumping behind his head had evened out and the muscles were less tense. Sam had been wound up since pulling up to the bar's parking lot, so it was up to Dean to get him to chill. Funny, having heart to heart's was usually Sam's gig. And even if Dean never admitted it out loud, Sam had been acting how Dean feels on the inside some days. Nervous and a bit panicky that he's going to fail or do something that get's his tiny brother hurt or killed. Maybe it was more then just bodies that they had swapped. Of course, that's not to say that Dean never wants to have chick flick moments. God knows they've talked a whole lot about things between them, but, it was usually Sam that initiated them. Dean was always too scared to bring up his fears, loose that brave and perfect big brother shine that Sam sees in him.

Dean pushed it out of his head. Anyone would act that way in their shoes. Be worried for the safety and well being of someone that can disappear in a single fist. Taken away like Sam had been... break bones from strangers' rough handling. And of course Dean would put on a brave face and deal with the constant dangers, but inside, he would fret about a lot of things. Lately, it was getting easier to just treat Sam as a brother then as something emotionally fragile and not just physically fragile. So long as the human was paying attention to their huge and fast movements, they could still pal around and tease each other. So what if one has a significant physical advantage over the other. It doesn't matter. They each got their brother's back. Dean just had to remind himself as well. The longer he was this size, Dean was getting used to what he's capable of. He toyed around with the idea of climbing up something instead of just sliding down the fishing line. The muscles are there, he just has to channel the technique. There was no need to do it right at this moment so he turned his attention back to the case. Going over that day they first got it, going over the details again. Who called them up, the original owner of the objects, what Maria Ross's life had been like. Devoting it to positive hoodoo and teaching her grand kids about it. Shame that Mrs. Ross's daughters didn't share that gift as much as the grands. And now poor Sabrina got herself in a pickle. If only it was as easy as returning it and getting her money back.

“You know, the lady downstairs who had changed her name to Sabrina, is now a teenage witch.” Dean smirked.

“Huh, wonder if that has something to do with all this or if it's just a coincidence? In any case, we still need to get them back to normal along with ourselves.” Sam's hand cupped around the pocket again for the trip back down the stairs, feeling the slight weight bounce with every step down. Sam muttered as he took each step down. “Five more to go. Four. Three.” Letting Dean know what's up on the outside world. Sam dropped his hand again and found the teenage pizza delivery boy sitting close to the passed out drunk middle aged Wiccan. “How you holding up, Sabrina?” He asked and the boy shook her head.

Sabrina would never get used to all this. She thought long and hard and couldn't deny the facts before her. She was in this kids body, and he was in hers. She looked up at the tall handsome freckled man and gave a small grin. “Your hair looks terrible.” She stood up and reached up high to fix it for him, “Looks better spiked. That's how your brother did it?”

He nodded once, watching as the hands turned it into more of a mohawk. Sam hadn't added any styling products after the shower that morning, but Dean's hair was naturally spiky anyway. Her fingers dragged across his scalp and it felt kinda nice in a maternal way, but the moment passed, and she grinned kindly at him, which coming from Brandon's overworked peach fuzzed face, kind of lost something in translation. “There, all better.” Sabrina walked by him on the way to the main store area.

“That's two points.” Dean sounded smug about being aesthetically pleasing, and got a tired sigh in return.

“Whatever. She's an underage boy, ya pervert.” before Dean could come up with an adequate quip or retort back, Sam picked up the pace, and jogged to catch up to her, now that he'd officially won that round. “So, Sabrina.” He raised his voice and got her attention. “We should gather up everything you bought from that estate sale.”

She wrung her hands some more, looking about the place. “Don't be mad, but I, I went shopping a lot that week, and I only kinda remember what all I bought.”

Sam held back an aggravated sigh. This would take longer then he thought. “Not a problem, while you do that, I'm gonna make a call.” He announced and stepped away to let her work, and picked up Dean's cell phone. Flipping it open, he scrolled down to Bobby's number. It only rang twice, “Hey Bobby.”

Dean sat up and looked overhead. “Yeah? You find the thing yet?” Bobby's voice filtered down so that Dean could listen in.

“Almost.” Sam said and watched a small pile of things form in the center of the free space. The hookah was put away in a hurry when Sabrina noticed it was still out front and center for anyone to see.

“Right, well, what I was able to find is a cleansing ritual, and since your in a specialty shop, it should be easy enough for even you two idjits to do it.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam rolled his eyes at the playful put down.

“Don't thank me yet. What is the thing? Animal, mineral, or vegetable?”

“Uh, well, here's the thing, we don't know yet. There's a few different things here that she bought. Oh, and uh, by the way, whatever it is, struck again. Ms. Sabrina and a local delivery boy switched places as well.”

“Balls.” Bobby's voice sounded distant and some paper rustled. “Ok, this complicates things, but it should be fine. Put all the suspected items in a cauldron with the ingredients I'm about to tell you.”

Sam nodded and found a pen and paper to write them all down. Marveling for a second at how perfectly the pen fit in his hand instead of his usual chunks of graphite. And it had the added bonus of not leaving marks on his hand by just holding it. Dean peeked through one of the holes in the pocket and told Sam how to get a pen to 'work' by drawing circles to loosen up the roller ball and ink. Small things like this would pop up on Sam and remind him how different their worlds were. Not just the size issues, the technology and mundane things as well. He wished he had a good pen he could use when he's back to his normal size again, but focused on the list Bobby was rattling off before he got lost or something confused with another.

Once the list was completed, Sam went over it again with bobby just to be sure and the old hunter informed them of the order to add each piece, and how long to let it burn. That got him a little worried because if this doesn't work, the object could be damaged and they could be stuck like this forever. He said as much and got a pause from Bobby.

“It doesn't say anything in here about it destroying the object your purifying.” Bobby was quiet for another minute, papers rustling in the background. Sam ignored the elbow jab below.

“He's working on it.” Sam whispered and felt Dean's posture pout.

“Ok, still there?” Bobby didn't wait for an answer before going on, “The object isn't burned, it goes in after the potion is done burning. I just read the fine print on it. That's why there's a limit. Now, before you do this, try out the other method first.”

“What other method?”

“Having both of you touch it at the same time.” Bobby sounded tired and Sam looked at the clock on the wall. Right, it's well past two am, and their friend had probably been doing research for this whole time.

“So we just touch it... that might be a problem...” Sam trailed off, cupping his mouth around the phone so the lady in the other room couldn't hear. “She doesn't know about small people. And I don't know if I want her to know.”

“Figure it out, ya idjit.” Bobby said and hung up. Having said all he needed to. He cared about the boys like his own kids, but sometimes there's such a thing as holding their hands for too long. Becoming too dependent. What would they do without him?

Sam gaped at the phone for a bit before noticing Sabrina was finished making the pile, consisting of a number of items. Now or never. He took and released a big breath and strode on over to join her.

“Is this good?” She sounded nervous and the boy's greasy skin shown with sweat. She didn't seem to notice, and Sam wasn't about to make her feel self conscious about it. If he and Dean were hesitant to take showers in their brothers skin... how much worse would it be like for her and the kid? Hopefully they wont be like this for long.

There in the pile were a number of odds and ends. The ones his eyes gravitated to looked like the same style the late grandmother would have owned. A candle holder set, a statue of two fairy's dancing, book ends that looked like dragons, a yin-yang paperweight, and a few globs of melted glass that was formed into sun catching incense holders.

“This is it?” Sam asked, only recognizing one set of the items, the candle holders.

She nodded. “I didn't buy a whole lot. Most of the stuff looked too bland at those sales. No color.”

“Ok.” Sam said and sat down on the floor, cross legged and she did likewise. Mirroring the movement. “So do we hold hands and chant?”

“What? No. Probably not. We didn't do that before to swap.” Sam said and without touching the items by himself, looked them over carefully, using the pen he subconsciously stole to maneuver them back and forth. “My friend said that he had a spell that we could use if this doesn't work. It takes time for it to steep though, so if this doesn't work, we can get it going and it should be done tomorrow.”

She seemed upset but nodded reluctantly, no use throwing a fit. This tall handsome man was here to fix the mess she stumbled into. Feeling guilty for bringing this on to not only Sam and his brother, but poor Brandon as well.

“Uh, best I can think, is that we only had to touch the items to make it activate. So, it stands to reason we touch it again and go back to normal.” Sam said, using the pen to move each of the items well apart from the others on the floor. Nine in total. “I'd feel better if my brother an I went first.” He felt a few pats on his chest to signal that Dean was cool with that decision.

“Wonderful! Go get your brother and then we can get Brandon back in here.”

Moment of truth time. He could send Sabrina away, but, then she would be confused as to why, and probably peek anyway. Questioning why Dean had to show up without her seeing him, and then why Sam had to suddenly disappear after the switch. It would add to the suspicion that hadn't fully left her about the brothers. She no doubt would think they were trying to swindle her in some way. This way would be easier, perhaps. Sam _hopes_. “Uhmm. Here's the thing. My brother... um. He's uh, already here.” His hand wavered in the air and she took it to mean something entirely different then a simple meaningless gesture.

She looked confused for a second then eyes went wide as saucers. “Oh! I understand! It's why you said he had a harder time adapting.” She winked and said, “I have always been on your kinds side. I want you to know that. You will always be welcomed here.”

Sam was shocked but was happy to hear that she already knew about small people. And not only that, it wasn't looking like she wanted to capture or hurt them either. Sam knew from experience that not everyone is benevolent to those small and vulnerable. He started to lift his hand to the pocket when he saw hers lifted up to the ceiling with her head tilted upwards and looking like she was expecting to catch a big beach ball from the sky.

Her voice came out in a reverent and boisterous tone, “Oh troubled spirit, Dean! Wont you come and join the land of the living again?”

Sam's hand dropped back to his lap, tilting his head at her, “What are you doing?”

“That's close, right? I don't know how to summon spirits into their bodies yet. For you, it doesn't have to be human, your tethering object. I'm told, it could be a different object your soul could be bound to. A doll perhaps? You can learn to move a doll, can't you? Something with moving parts would suit you best, I think. I don't want to tell you what you and your brother can do, but, we will get you a proper vessel to inhabit. We can figure it out once we get Dean back into his body. I'm still learning, but I am confident if we summon your brother's spirit more fully, we can compel him to enter the object at the same time as you touch it. Bingo Bango, you both switch! Then, it should be a simple matter of moving your soul into the new vessel.” She beamed like she was meeting hard proof that ghosts exist, and the fact she befriended one was the bees knees. All too often she heard of dark spirits, it is nice to meet a benevolent one!

Sam stared dumbly at her. “What?”

“Oh don't worry, Honey.” She said sweetly, and the saccharine tone sounded so weird coming from Brandon's voice box. “You can choose anything in here to inhabit once we get you boys swapped. I wont charge a nickle.” She nodded and turned halfway around to scan her shelves for decent substituted for a human body. Turning back at Sam's silent bewilderment. Studying his expression and trying to figure out his back history. Maybe she got something wrong in translation? “Isn't that the reason you can't drive? You died before you learned how?” She saw the new squinty look in his eyes. “Don't worry, Sam! If you do not wish to remain here on Earth, you can return to Summerland, or when the goddess calls you home to become one with the All. You don't have to worry anymore! You might be attached to your brother for a reason. I don't subscribe to everything exclusively Wicca, I like to think that more then one religion can exist in harmony. Soul mates aren't limited to romantic couples. It could be father and son, or best friends, everyone just assumes that it should be a romantic couple. Hollywood nonsense. I think you and your brother could be soul mates and that is why you were so attached to him. If you desire, you can be reincarnated and meet him again! You don't have to hold onto his body to be with him!”

“What on earth?” Sam trailed off. “I'm not dead.”

“No, of course not _now,_ the souls of the departed are never really gone. Death is a door you pass through, a veil, but there is always a window, and perhaps this is your window! To see if you want to continue through the door or linger in the entrance. It's completely your choice. I only hope you liked this brief time being alive again, but as you know, as you've been working out for yourself, you just don't belong in this body. We will help you find out where you're meant to go.” She beamed at him. Nodding to herself for getting her ideas out for him to consider. Her arms lifting again. “Oh Dean! Brother kin of Sam, wont you join us here in this circle?”

“Sure!” Dean shouted up from the pocket and Sabrina nearly jumped out of her skin. Hands fluttering in the air excitedly.

“We made contact!” She shouted joyfully. “That's the first time I've heard them out loud! It's working! Join with me, Sam!” She reached blindly for Sam's hand that hung limp in his lap.

Sam was still trying to figure out where the hell she came up with the idea that he was a ghost that would take over Dean's body for the hell of it. Wondering if she thought that he was responsible for her switch as well, but being too polite to call him out on it.

“Ok, this is getting silly.” Dean said and hoisted himself up out of the pocket, Sam's hand jumping up into place to keep Dean from falling. Dean hopped onto the upturned palm and surprisingly, kept his balance while standing there about chest high as Sam and Sabrina stayed sitting cross legged on the floor. Helping tame his fear of heights so he could look just that much more austere and regal, or as much as possible for someone with tangled long hair who's standing on a hand and wearing half torn pants. “Hi, I am the great spirit.” Dean waved one hand while the other went into his pants pocket in a move so casual that it made the whole display that much more surreal, just because it was in miniature. His neck felt like pins and needles from being out and within her line of sight.

Her eyes trailed back down to the small voice to land on Dean. Blinking at him for a good minute. Working it out in her mind. “You're smaller then I thought you'd be.” She finally remarked. “Is this from the object? It gave you a small token of your original body? Just large enough for a soul?” Looking up at Sam for confirmation. She thought that souls reside in the _whole_ body. Not a small version of it. Scientists were able to capture energy fields in people that had limbs amputated, showing the limb in the photo as if it had never left. Maybe this is a condensed collection of all that energy that formed the soul? Like steam condensed into water. Coal compressed into a diamond. Or perhaps the goddess blessed this man with a body so that they could perform this transposition? She didn't want to assume anything now. They're learning all kinds of new things today. It was best not to anger the spirits present.

Dean waved his arms in front of himself, nixing whatever was running rampant in her head. “Ok. First of all. I'm not dead, he's not dead, no one is dead. No one died. Sammy was shrunk when he was a kid from a witches curse.” Dean started and Sam quickly joined in to tell a truncated version of their story to her. Sabrina's eyes went wider then before. Mouth opening a fraction at a time until it was hanging down in a mix of wonder and disbelief.

Dean concluded, “So even though I hate witches with a burning fiery passion, you are one classy chick.” He winked again, “And I would still love to have coffee with you. Anytime.”

“Dean.” Sam sighed, dropping the hand to rest on his turned ankle on the floor. “After we get back to normal? Please?”

“Whatever Pint size.” Dean smirked. Sam continued to hold him out of her reach. “Well? Are we doing this or what?”

Sabrina finally came back and blinked rapidly to alleviate her dry eyes that stared for too long. “Yes... yes of course.” feeling very foolish for thinking it was ghosts, but that did seem more likely than... than _this_! Her hand came up to move her long hair behind her ear, but came up short. “Right.” She mumbled, noting the lack of her long hair. Accidentally feeling the light scruff that Brandon had from not shaving that morning. More prominent prickles that jarred her back to the present. She did not forget she was in a different body, but her fingers weren't quick on the trigger. The urge to play with her long hair in a self calming way.

Sam nodded at the gesture, and said, “I do that too.” softly. Hoping that they hadn't lost her entirely to the supernatural world. It was all too easy to loose oneself in their world. “If it's any consolation, this is new to us too. I mean, the swapping part. We hunt monsters and we'd never heard of anything like this, save for shapeshifters. We had a hard time believing what happened, and so we understand this is all, well, kinda fucked up.” He chuckled and she grinned back, still embarrassed with herself for assuming spirits were able to swap bodies. The fact that is where her mind jumped to first, but really, who would immediately think of tiny people? In _any_ situation? Seeing him down there made her feel too powerful and deadly at the same time. She found herself frozen in place, not even daring to breath too deeply, speak too loudly now that she saw how much Dean flinched at the noises. Wishing she could apologize for her shouting earlier, but worried that speaking at all would hurt him even more. She faced Sam and took cues from him, how he sat relaxed, even with someone impossibly tiny on his hand. Every detail was perfect and now that she was really looking, she noticed his disheveled appearance and felt bad for him. All he's been through and looked at sam next. From their little story, she knew how much he had endured for so many years. Happy that they reunited, but also fearful for what's to come. For both brothers. Neither man paid her much attention now that they were both getting psyched up to do this.

It was literally life changing and she leaned forward to witness it. Every second. Ready to give whatever help they might need. Guilt surging up her stomach to burn in her throat for causing all of this, even if it was unknown and unintentional. Pushing it back down because she will do whatever it takes to fix it.

“Let's get started.” Sam said with no small amount of determination and nerves. He finally let Dean down onto the ground in front of the first object; the candlesticks. It was the one thing from the whole collection here that he recognized without any doubt. An excited look passed between them. This is it. They can get back to normal and leave Alice's looking glass far behind. Both reaching forward with agonizing slowness until they finally touched it with trembling outstretched fingertips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a bitch, I know!   
> And I did little to no research on Wicca, fyi. Five minute google search for some of these parts. Sorry if I offended anyone! Just picture this as Sabrina's take on being a Wiccan! Not everyone practices their beliefs in the same way.   
> Basically, as Dean would say, "Don't be a dick! It's all good!" lol   
> And I kinda want to write or read a good Sam and Dean ghost fic now... any recommendations?


	12. Oh, Lord, Heaven Knows, We Belong Way Down Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more time! With feeling!

Chapter Twelve:

Oh, Lord, Heaven Knows, We Belong Way Down Below

 

 

 

Nothing happened. They knew that could be a possibility since it didn't exactly happen instantaneously last time, why would it this time? Each pulled their hand back and looked at the other. Waiting. After five minutes nothing continued to happen so they thought that perhaps they had to sleep to activate it, but, they didn't want to waste, what.... maybe nine days? Touching these objects and falling asleep to trigger them into working each time? For one thing, they don't require much sleep, so trying to force it on either of them wont work.

They decided to move on rather then get too disappointed. After all, only one of these objects is the real deal, and touching others wont do a bit of difference to them. So might as well touch them all. Sure they wouldn't narrow down the culprit, but at least they'd be back to normal, and Sabrina reminded them that she'll likely get rid of all of the objects once they're done here. No chance of having another mishap and swapping bodies with a mouse or something more drastic.

After trying every combination of touching objects, and having nothing work, they called it a night. Sabrina was still staring at Dean and making him more and more self conscious but trying to hide it. With Sam here, he knew he was safe, but the constant attention was making his neck ache with the constant tingles turning into mild muscle spasms.

“I need some air.” Dean said and started to walk away from the two giants. Sam was about to follow but Dean raised his hands. “It's alright. I'm not gonna get lost or anything. Just need to stretch my legs.”

Sam debated with himself to follow anyway under the pretense of knowing where he's going to end up should they switch back unexpectedly. But, Dean should be allowed a solo walk around a closed store unsupervised. He's not trying to keep Dean captive. Sam figured this was all getting on his older brother's nerves. The lack of something happening. No new clues. He cleared his throat when Dean was about to walk under one of the displays for his attention. “I'm gonna get the Impala set up for tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Sabrina asked.

“We don't have enough cash for another night at the motel, and I am beat.” Sam said around a yawn. The sun would be up in just a couple hours.

“Nonsense, you're staying here. I have a long comfortable couch that is much better then my bed. Otherwise I would have offered that. And Dean can sleep uhmm. Where does he usually sleep?”

“I have a bed.” Sam nodded. “I'll bring it in with our bag. Thanks so much for letting us stay.” He grinned again and she smiled back. “Uhh, watch where you step with him on the ground.”

Her eyes widened comically and she took several small steps back from where she'd last seen him.

“He knows not to walk in main pathways but, yeah, be careful?”

“Of course! Yeah. I'm sure Brandon wont be waking up anytime soon. I never could hold my liquor.” She chuckled and looked down at herself again. “Sounds cliché but this is still so surreal. Keep expecting to wake up.” She muttered and noticed Dean on the floor. “Anything you find is yours, who knows how much money or jewelry I've dropped and lost under that old thing.”

Dean saluted Sam and Sabrina and strode under one of the display cases. The tingle was finally gone with Sabrina unable to watch him and he shook himself out to get rid of the lingering traces. Just as she said, there was a long gold necklace that had gotten itself wedged in the long crack of the display overhead. He tugged on it but it was pretty stuck up there. He made note of its location, maybe Sammy can shift it just enough to let it fall the rest of the way. There was a number of coins and no end to the dust under there. Getting it all over himself in no time. Finding that if he moved with precision, and avoided brushing up against fabric from the scarves for sale, he wouldn't get too much static cling to make the dust problem even worse.

Sam still stared blankly at where Dean disappeared before remembering he was supposed to be getting their bags and his small bed out of the Impala. Standing up tall he watched every single step on to the front door and let himself out into the chilly night, standing on the sidewalk. The street was quiet, the bar had closed and everyone had either gone home or to an all night diner. He heard an irritated yowl from a cat and sneered in that direction. Daring it to show its face again. He had nothing against cats in general, so long as they stayed away from him, but that one in particular can go straight to hell. Knowing it was only acting on instincts, pouncing after something small that was running and making noises, didn't change his opinion about that stray. He fingered the gun and as if the cat heard his attentions, he heard something scuttle down the street, far away from him. He nodded curtly and gathered up the bags and locked the doors. Taking one last look up and down the street. If all goes well tonight, they should be back in their proper bodies, and this will be the last time he gets to experience being human.

He turned his head down the street towards the fields beyond the tiny town, the stars were still out and the sky was only lightly clouded. He breathed in the quiet air and saw his breath billow out of his mouth. Grinning at that. He rarely got a chance to just be outside on his own. Without being in some kind of danger. Listening to the highway and the few cars on it driving past the town without stopping, wondering just how many times the brothers had done just that in the time they'd spent reunited. What would it be like to stay in a town like this one. He shook his head, there will be a time to retire the Hunting life, but it's not now. People still needed saving and they were still able to do something to help.

Sam turned on his heel and gave the Impala a long stroke of his fingers along her trunk, roof then hood, rubbing his thumb along the front before leaving her out there to go inside the warm building. The Impala was home, wherever she was, they were home.

Sam closed the shop door behind himself and noticed the sign on the door, listing the open and closing times and made it read that they were closed for all of tomorrow so no one would come calling. Sure that Sabrina wouldn't want to deal with anyone while riding around inside a boys body. Taking a day off wouldn't kill anyone. Just to be safe, he made the day after tomorrow's schedule the same. They could change it back if all goes well.

He watched his steps as he navigated the clear floor of the shop, eyes and ears out for any indication that his brother was close but found none. He didn't hear any distress calls either so he should be fine. Sabrina wouldn't hurt him because they are the only people around that knows whats going on and are willing to help her. Brandon though, he was an unknown factor. Sam passed the stairs leading up to Sabrina's place to double check on the teen and he was still out like a light. Leg fallen off of the couch again and snoring softly. Sam found a folded old blanket nearby and covered up the woman and using the blanket to re-position the legs so he didn't make direct skin to skin contact. Feeling like a creeper for adjusting the unconscious female body, but sleeping in that position would give him a terrible backache later. He heard Sabrina come up behind and she didn't make any move or say anything to show she opposed his actions. Instead, she helped him out, finding a throw pillow in one of the decoration boxes and propping up the head with it, she fixed up the long hair and played with it for a second.

“I don't want to be stuck like this. What would I do? Move into his parents house? Have him take over my shop?” She did not expect an answer, just voicing her worries.

“You know, you mentioned that he was envious of your job, maybe you could have him work for you?”

She hummed in though at that. “It beats having to worry where he's going in my body.” She admitted.

“We'll get it figured out. Dean an I haven't had a hunt we didn't come back from. Knock on wood.” He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door next to him. The same one he tried to break into earlier that night. Noting that the metal rod that was inset into the floor was far too large for Dean to move. He fiddled with it before returning it back into place. She quirked a brow at him and he admitted sheepishly. “We tried to uh, break in this way. Didn't work. So we came in through your bathroom window. You should be safe from burglars.”

“I completely forgot. So much going on... I'm glad you did show up when you did.” She then looked up at the ceiling at the rough area where the bathroom laid. “The bathroom window?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, already reading the questions on her mind. “I'm pretty good at climbing, doing it for over half my life.” He spread his thumb and forefinger out to show how tall he used to be, “Kinda _have_ to be. For survival mostly.” And left it at that. Speaking of, he turned and came back into the main shop area, scanning the floors the whole time and nearly jumped when a penny was flung at him from the rack of scarves. Dean was straddling one narrow pole proudly with the hook planted on one of the horizontal support bars. Sam beamed at his brother. Climbing up this high on his own. It was quite a feat for a beginner. It only came about as high as his stomach, but still very impressive.

Dean watched as Sam knelt down to be more eye level with him.

“How are your arms?” He asked.

“Fine, once I got started, it was no problem at all. I hate to say this, but you're pretty fit for a pint sized person.”

Sam bowed slightly. “Don't short yourself either. You are technically able to scale tall buildings and playground equipment.”

“ _Right_.” Dean rolled his eyes. “And my muscles and joints are gonna be paying for that later, I suspect. Thanks for that.” The tone dripping with sarcasm. Nothing like returning to a body that will be cramping up a storm in the morning.

“You're welcome.” Sam smirked back. “Did you want a lift? The spare couch is upstairs, quite a journey.”

Dean leaned back to see the huge room beyond, the stairs stretching up to unimaginable heights just because this is an old building and they liked their showrooms tall. Easily 12 food ceilings, maybe more. Distances are difficult to judge from down here. He knew it would take him too long so he coiled up the line and stuffed it into the bag with the hook secured in place. Dean saw the hand coming for him and that will never seem normal. To watch his face, his body, his over sized hand looming in close like this. Realizing time and time again that this is exactly what Sam sees on a _daily basis._ This isn't the curse messing up perspectives, or, making things seem even bigger and more intimidating, this is just Sam's point of view. What he has to deal with.

The hand came to a rest before him and Dean threw one leg up and back over the bar he was sitting on so he could scoot sideways over to the fingertips. Sam's other hand came in quickly to act as a guard wall which threw off Dean's concentration. Nearly tipping too far to one side, the hand swooped in even faster and collided with his torso, sending him sprawling onto the flat hand. Sam was upset with himself, but would have been more so if he let his brother fall. Dean righted himself on the fingers and looked up and around, disoriented for a second before shooting Sam the middle finger. The guard hand's fingers twitched and once Dean was sitting cross legged and secure, Sam flipped the bird right back, which was far more effective since the finger was longer then Dean was tall. It actually sent Dean into laughing hysterics instead of getting angry.

“Loser.” Sam's breath pushed Dean's long hair around but he didn't care, that was freakin' funny. Sam brought Dean up to chest high and got up off his knees, tilting Dean this way and that which made Dean laugh all the harder at being rolled around like a ball. Better then being grouchy. “Would you prefer walking?”

Dean held back the next chuckles, dimples popping hard in his cheeks. Shaking his head when he scanned the floor, assessing how long it actually would take him to get there, if he did decide to just go for it. “I'm good. Let's roll.” His finger twirled in the air and ended with an over emphasized point to the stairs.

Sam held back from encasing Dean again like he had the first time he carried his brother, since Dean wasn't complaining about the short trip. Scaling the stairs was easier on Dean now that he could watch where Sam was going and knew what to expect. Sabrina had finished making up the couch and hovered nearby, watching Sam sit on it and set Dean on top of the fluffy pillow he was given. Dean fell over immediately and cursed into it's stuffing. Sam ignored him as he set up the tiny bed on the coffee table and angled it so at any moment, he could just turn his head upwards and check up on Dean past the armrest.

Dean forwent trying to stand on the highly unstable surface to started an army crawl on closer to the table to check out the set up. He knew he'd feel all kinds of exposed on top of it, but asking for some kind of cover felt like he was admitting how scared he was. He hadn't encountered any bugs that were a problem yet, just a few ants outside which paid him no attention at all, and a fist sized fruit fly that he tried to shoot with a gun he didn't have. Sabrina kept her place clean, but no matter how pristine and sterile an environment is, there will always be insects. Dean rubbed his arms and sighed. Sam left him there to grab a short cup of water and set it nearby along with a Kleenex that he tore up into more manageable squares for Dean. It resembled confetti to him now and he piled them up next to the cup. Dean could clearly see the thinking cap on his brother's head as he mentally went over what all Dean might need in the middle of the night and saw the light bulb going off in those green eyes. Pulling out the cell phone and opening it up because Dean couldn't on his own. It went into sleep mode and if he needed to, Dean could set up an alarm to go off to wake Sam if he was unable to on his own.

Sam stood back up and towered over nearly everything in the room. Dean shivered at the sight. This colossus was powerful enough to do _anything_. Dean was in awe at how much power he held, and never fully realized it before. There were plenty of people in the world that could do more, and less, and _all of them_ were like gods to small people. Even children could destroy the small people's homes. A thrashing baby could _kill_. Dean's gaze fell on the rough hands that were being so careful as his younger brother pushed and nudged the blankets onto the bed. It's not like Sam didn't think Dean was incapable of making a bed, he guessed that Sam was doing it just because it was interesting to see it from this perspective. Sam then laid his palm out flat on the bed and left it there for a minute, gazing out at the room while Dean was confused as hell why his brother was gently smushing the bed. It wasn't at risk of breaking at all, the hand was just encompassing it.

Sam's wandering gaze landed on Dean, catching his eye, Sam looked away and lifted his hand. He cleared his throat, making a sound that would terrify monsters Dean's size and said as matter of fact as possible while still looking vulnerable. “It's not the warmest in here, so uh, yeah. Preheated bed.” And finally looked back at Dean to shrug a shoulder up. No idea why this would look weird to the small man, but feeling the need to explain all the same.

Dean made an enlightened sound and was eager to try out the bed. The blankets were super thick and to have them already warm was a bonus. Dean got to shaky feet and raised his arms again in that universal symbol of 'pick me up'. Sam was relieved he wasn't given shit for the mother henning and brought his hand over so Dean wouldn't have to scale past the pillow, up the arm of the couch, throw the hook to the table, make a daring leap which would inevitably mean he would fall down with only his hands on the wire to keep him from falling down all the way to his death, then climb up the table and then. _Finally_. Get into bed.

Too much work. So Dean climbed on and was dropped off mere seconds later right next to the still warm bed and Dean forced himself to at least take off the outer layers of clothes before sleep overtook him. Sam turned to give him some privacy and used the bathroom after Sabrina just left. The signs of a shower were in the room and her expression was one of deep embarrassment. She had changed while inside the bathroom into her pajamas and Sam dared not to ask if she was doing ok. It was however amusing to see the body of a teenage boy in a very over sized purple night shirt with suns and moons all over it, with striped sweat pants below. Brandon's clothes were in the hamper and Sabrina put it just outside of the bathroom. Without looking at him she announced to the wall, “I will wash all of the clothes after you get into bed.” And yeah, Dean's outfit had seen better days. Sam brought in all of his belongings that they usually take into hotel rooms, so Dean didn't have to wear the same thing tomorrow. He decided when they get back to normal, to make those torn pants into shorts so Dean doesn't feel bad for the irreparable damage. There's always going to be southern Hunts to go on, and wearing long pants all the time gets hot, even for small people that can't keep in the heat.

Sam borrowed some of her toothpaste and brushed with a finger, looking at himself in the mirror at Dean's tired expression. Today had been a rough one, to say the least, but soon, that will all be behind them. Confident that once they sleep, they will switch back. Then it's just a quick matter of having Sabrina and Brandon do the same exact things as he and Dean did. He got ready, and took the last shower he'll ever take in a proper tub. Loving the spray that came out in individual streams, instead of one gushing cylinder of water that usually threatens to knock him on his ass. It was as short as the motel's shower, but still, very nice. Especially since she had one of those hand held deals that can adjust between sprays. He picked a nice strong one at first, easing those aches Dean warned about, then ended with a more mellow trickle of water that warmed him up with how hot the water got. Perfection.

He got dressed again in new clothes and put the old ones in the hamper as instructed. Hearing Sabrina's TV quietly going in her bedroom. He saw that Dean was already deep asleep, burrowed inside the blankets so far only the tuft of brown hair stuck out. Sam crept over and hovered his hand over the bed again, letting the radiant heat from the palm warm it up one last time before he climbed onto the couch and curled up in its blankets. Sleep found him immediately.

 

Dean woke to the sounds of someone suffering from a hangover downstairs. He pulled the blankets up tighter over his head. Grumbling for the unwanted wake up call. He felt the floor tremble slightly at heavy footsteps leading up the stairs. Grumbling and mumbling voice that hissed something about it being too bright and the clocks were ticking too loudly. The stomps felt stronger and closer now and Dean slowly woke up a bit more, blinking in the light bleeding through the blankets. A too loud feminine voice shook the air around him, “What is _that_?” And the ground jumped four more times, each time stronger then the last. His eyes went wide. _Fuck_. There's only one reason why someone walking would feel like earthquakes. One reason why they wouldn't know what was on the table, or who.

Dean tried so hard to stay perfectly still. To pretend to be a doll or some shit because he heard open mouthed breathing just outside of the blankets. So this is what children think of with a monster hovering nearby. His heart leaping in his chest, trying to escape as his whole table shook. The glass lamp clinking loudly at the sudden movement. Fuck _fuck_.

Sam felt the presence of someone nearby and blearily opened up his eyes. Seeing Sabrina's hungover body standing over the table, leaning down and looking intently at it. It was over Sam's head so he turned slowly to blink up at her. The events catching up to him the second after the manicured hand dove forward towards the table.

Dean had no chance of escape. The warm breaths stank of alcohol and morning breath and were getting stronger and stronger. Then, he felt pressure all around himself as he was pinned mercilessly to the bed by a palm much larger then himself. He bit back a cry and then he lost the option to even do _that_ anymore. Pushed into the bed's mattress as the whole thing was launched quickly into the air. Turning around and suddenly he was upside down, laying on the palm with the bed over him now. The weight of it near crushing. He couldn't breath. Gasping for air, for release, for help.

Dean was tilted to the side, slumping down even more, and his hands were scrambling for a grip on the mattress underneath to keep himself fully attached to the bed because he knew that if he let go, he'd be in that hand. _Alone._ No sturdy bed frame to protect him from that hand and long nailed fingers. He'd be discovered and grabbed faster then a cookie on a plate in front of a room full of kids. He felt the muscles in the palm stretch and the fingers gripping the underside of the bed. The heat along with the pressure made him sweat but still he clung tight. Feet tucking into the corners to help.

All the while he heard mumbling grunts but was unable to make them out past the panic swimming in his head. He wasn't seen _yet_ , but he might die before then. Longing to call out to Sam but that was no guarantee that his brother would hear it and wake up, it would just alert the giant who's hand he was in now, that the thing he's holding is more then just a doll's bed.

Sam sat up quickly, blankets tangling his feet as he tried to stand and intercept the teenager. Falling back on his ass from the tangle of sheets. He was too late. Brandon was still very out of it, holding the bed in one hand, and the water cup in the other. Sam froze, eyes glued to the bed and hoping against hope that Dean was not inside it. That he managed to escape in time. Cursing himself out for not hearing the teen sooner. Sabrina's dress was half twisted around Brandon's hips and apparently, the kid wasn't even aware of much of anything. This could either be very good or very bad. Sam's mind was racing for how to react when Brandon was eyeballing the cup of water. Shrugging and taking it in one shot, sneering in disgust. Apparently he thought it could be vodka and was disappointed.

“No hair of the doggie.” He muttered sadly and slammed it back to the table, turning to finally see Sam sitting straight upright on the couch. “Sup.” He grinned lopsidedly but frowned right after. “Too loud.” He whispered and the bed in his hand turned sideways as he brought it up along with his other hand to rub at his forehead, looking at it with slight suspicion before dropping it to his side. His free hand rubbed down his face and he frowned thoughtfully at Sam. “Acid trip Dude, right?”

Sam nodded slowly, unsure if he ever told Brandon his real name. Green eyes darting from the bed to the woman's face as the long hair fell half in front. Brandon absently used the bed's legs to brush it back and Sam winced at all the fast movements the teen is subjecting his small brother too. Heart leaping from his chest to his throat at how fast the bed was dropped right back down to bounce at his side.

“Wha time's'it?” Brandon asked, turning around to look at the walls. “Where'm I?”

“Uhh.” Sam said, hands reaching forward to the bed. Trying to come up with a fast way of getting Dean to safety without making Brandon take any interest in his find. “The store Sabrina runs. And uh, she has a policy of you break it you buy it, so I'll just take that thing out of your hands before that very expensive bed gets any _more_ damaged.”

Brandon lifted it up to his eyes, turning it around again. Frowning deeply. “Man I don't have cash to buy this.” He lifted a few fingers to reduce the amount of surface area he touched, and Sam nearly lunged forward to rescue his brother from falling. Seeing a tiny hand gripping the wooden frame just outside of the mattress in a white knuckled grip before it was hidden again by the blanket falling back into place. Sam made several sounds of panic but Brandon simply set it back down onto the table.

Dean was tossed and turned and lifted and fallen so many times he's surprised he's not dead right now. Hearing his voice outside of the unrelenting pressure of the hand above and being relieved that his brother was wide awake and knew what was happening. Dean felt himself lifted up a good fifty feet in a second and saw long hair outside of the crack in the blankets, the sound of it brushing by the wooden feet of the bed before he was dropped right back down again. Teeth clacking painfully closed at the sudden stop. Sure he'd chipped a tooth he let go for just a second to grip something more stable then the mattress; the wooden frame just beyond, that kept it in place. Definitely more stable. He was just tall enough to have an arm reach wide enough to grab both sides of the bed and pray that this will be over soon. He was lifted slower this time, angled this way and that and felt the pressure behind his back lessen dramatically before he was turned to his left side again but before he could worry about falling off, it was righted again and set down relatively gently back onto the table, if the lamp clinking again was any indication. The heavy fingers lifted up and away and he could finally make sense of the voices beyond.

Sam's throat was dry but he said, “Good. Yeah. 'Look don't touch'.” He repeated a phrase he'd heard before when the brothers went shopping. He scooted closer to the table, his arm sneaking closer without it being obvious as Brandon looked blankly down at the set up.

“Looks too girly anyway.” He muttered and turned around to take in the rest of the room.

The very instant his back was turned, Sam faced the table and wrapped his own hand around the bed, and quickly but infinite care, brought it to his lap, covering it up in the blanket he slept under. Blocking the bed and its occupant from view. Brandon turned back around and tugged idly at the dress, picking at it in confusion.

Under the large blanket, Sam wiggled a finger next to the small bed, feeling the small body flinch back and heard a cry of panic escape Dean. He knew one surefire way to let Dean know who it was, and angled the ring on his finger around to the side of the bed, letting Dean take a good long look at it and know he's in safe hands. Sam felt the tiny hands probe at the ring in the dark, before gripping at the thick wrinkles around the nearby knuckle, and patting it rapidly. Letting Sam know that he knows. Sam kept the bed on his lap as he watched Brandon stumble around the living room. Deciding it is far too dangerous to let this teen know about Dean just yet.

“So uh, Brandon, what do you remember? From yesterday night?”

Brandon flopped down to a sit on a recliner and his hands went right back to his forehead, groaning at the sudden movements all over again. Kid probably never had a hangover like this before. Now the kid was much slower when he leaned back and exhaled at the ceiling. “best damned trip of my life. Real total out of body experience yeah? 'Brina's got the best hookah in town, man. Tha _best_. Made my cheap shit taste and feel like, like amazing.” His hand twirled in the air. “Fuck, I gotta buy that thing from her. Find out what makes it so damned cool.” He sighed. Eyes lightly closed. It was a good minute before he spoke up again. “Weirdest thing though. The high, it kept on going. Like, it usually only lasts like an hour. We didn't take much. But I kinda remember getting into the bar. No questions asked. I was like, awesome. didn't even card me cause I'm like so manly. Working on my beard for few days now.” One hand rubbed against the jaw and his chest puffed up with pride, and the sizable breasts bounced because of it. He frowned at the ceiling then looked down at his shirt. “What the...” hands coming up to cup at the breasts in utter confusion over arousal, and squeezed. Realizing they are attached. He felt that. “The fuck is this?”

Sam knew he was seconds away from a meltdown and had to get to the kid before he tries to escape the store again. But first, he had to make sure Dean was far away from the two humans and the likely fight, so he lifted the blanket long enough to whisper, “Bed.” At Dean who was halfway up Sam's shirt, apparently intending to climb up to the shirt pocket but saw the freaked look on Sam's face and slid back down again. Sam's hand gently pushed him back onto the bed and Dean hastily covered himself up again as the hand folded overhead and lifted him from the wide lap. Dean clenched his teeth as he was once again feeling like he was falling down, but it was a much shorter and steadier drop to the floor. He saw the socked feet of the middle aged woman as Brandon shot forward in his seat, but lost track of events as the bed was shoved deep underneath the couch. He felt like he had to duck to avoid the underside but Sam's hand fit in as well, meaning it was a good six inches from the floor to the underside. Sam's hand retreated faster then anything, and Dean saw the blanket Sam had used drape back down in front, shifting and spreading to cover his hiding place as much as possible in such a short amount of time. The wind gusted under the couch at the sheet and kicked up all kinds of dust. The ground jumped when Sam got to his feet and Dean felt the steps leading away from the couch on over to Brandon. The sounds of fabric and scratch of furniture told Dean that Sam was pushing Brandon back into the chair and it moved back from the force. He could picture Sam leaning over the kid to box him in and a part of Dean felt like justice was being served. Brandon had him trapped for what seemed like hours but really was about a minute. Pinned down and helpless. At least Sam wasn't shoving him completely into the chair, just keeping him from standing.

Dean debated with himself on getting out of the bed. If he'd be safer there or away from it as he heard Sam lay out the facts to the hyperventilating kid. He hated not seeing anything so he wrapped one of the thinner blankets around himself because holy hell was it cold here on the floor with no shoes on, and walked the length of the couch to the side where his table was. He could see now that Sam was no longer hovering over the teenage boy trapped in the woman's body. Brandon was still clutching the breasts like it was a life jacket though. Dean held back a laugh at that. If it wasn't so strange, he'd be a little envious. Able to grab those boobs whenever he felt like it... Dean shook his head. Time and place.

Sam was using calm quiet words now that he's got Brandon's attention. The hangover was still in full steam and loud noises were only setting the kid off. “It's ok. We are going to figure this out.”

“Yeah? When?”

Sam sighed, looking down at himself and then around the room. It was all perfectly sized for him. He was still in Dean's body and he didn't know why touching the objects downstairs didn't work. Now he had a day of spell and potion work to look forward to. Hoping that will do something positive. “Soon.” He said, trying to look comforting. “You're safe here. Sabrina's been taking good care of your body.”

Brandon's eyes went wide again. He couldn't quite process it all at once, so each revelation took their turn with him. Looking back down at himself again and dropping his hands to the lap and away from the chest. “I...I drank so much... Hell. Did anything happen?” He felt guilty as hell. Memories filtering in from the bar, drinking whatever was put in front of him. Shouting something about turning people into animals. “Can I do that shit?”

“Do what?”

“Turn people into shit? Like fish and animals and shit?”

“Nooo?” Sam said slowly, remembering the declarations he made while drinking. “No. Sabrina was Wiccan, not a Witch. Very different. You have nothing to worry about.” Giving the kid a kind smile to sooth his jittery nerves.

Brandon looked relived then a little cheated. “That would have been cool.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stood back up. “Now stay right there and don't move.”

Brandon flipped him the bird then went back to hunching forward and moaning. Too much for his head right now. He will never drink that much again. Wondering if acid trip dude slipped him something and he was still tripping. It didn't feel like it... but then again, he'd only ever tried weed. Not even the good stuff either. Ditch weed his best friend was growing at his farm along the road. No one went out that way, so it was perfect place to hide the plants in plain sight. Maybe his stash had chemical runoff from the fields? Pesticides can do something like this? Brandon shook his head and regretted the movement, hiding his eyes from all light. Moaning at his plight. No more weed. No more shots. No more anything.

Sam walked back to the couch but instead of lifting up the blanket closest to the depressed kid, he walked around to the rear, getting down to his hands and knees, pressing his head to the floor and looking towards the small bed before gently reaching forward and tugging it closer. He noticed it was empty and his breath stuttered. “Oh no.” Sam whispered and shot looks all around, not seeing his brother _anywhere_. He shot upright, looked at Brandon again but knew he didn't have Dean since he felt Dean's hands on his ring not five minutes ago. He ducked his head down to the floor again and scanned everywhere, whispering in a half frantic voice, “Dean?!” Too quiet for the kid to hear, but loud enough for Dean... if he's still in the room.

“Over here.” Dean said back and grabbed another handhold on the thick fabric of the couch on the side closest to the table his stuff's on. Finding it pretty easy to scale up the side with so many hand and footholds. Especially since his socked feet could fit through the weave easier. Dean paused in his climb to see Sam's massive torso come into view sideways and the giant face duck down below the table's rim to see him. Sam couldn't fit his whole arm into the crevice so he fidgeted in place for how to get Dean back in hand.

“I'm fine Sammy. How's he doing?”

Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. “Better. I think he'll stick around.”

“Cool.” Dean nodded and continued his climb. As he worked, he said, “Too cold down there.” Like this was all normal. “So, were you planning on telling him not to play with the action hero toy?” Dean scaled up another few inches. This was much easier then climbing the fishing line since he could let go with a hand and a foot at the same time, if he wanted to. Almost like climbing up a soft ladder.

“I'm gonna leave that up to you.”

Dean thought about it as he nearly made it to the top of the couch, looking over and seeing the kid was half slumped in the chair. “I'm good with this secret identity. He doesn't need to know. Sabrina is cool though. She gets it.” Dean said and finally reached the top arm of the couch, shaking out his hands and feet from the exercise. He looked over to the table and his whole posture slumped. Right. The table wasn't close enough to simply jump over, and all the climbing gear as well as his clothes for the day were still on top.

Sam stood up, and as casual as you please, pushed the table and its contents closer to the couch with the side of his leg until it connected with a soft thump. The lamp clinking dangerously overhead again and Dean shot the glass thing a warning look to stay standing. Sam walked the rest of the way towards Brandon as if that was his goal in the first place. The kid didn't notice anything strange at all. So focused on making sense of his plight and not exacerbating his headache even more.

“Come on, let's get you some Tylenol.” Sam said and offered up an arm for the kid to grab on. Lifting him up and dragging him to the bathroom while Dean took the opportunity to get dressed and ready for the day ahead. They may not have changed back, but if they had, it would have been Sam stuck pinned down in bed instead, and Dean would not allow it. Dean thought he probably would have thrown a punch at the kid the instant his hand wrapped around the bed, which might have made the teen drop it altogether. So really, Sam's way of talking and reasoning was best. But. He still wanted a crack at him for messing with other peoples things. Even if it wasn't the brothers, Brandon thought the intricately carved bed belonged to Sabrina and just grabbed it up without asking. Dean had to forgive him though, it wasn't healthy to dwell on it since he's done some stupid stuff when he was half drunk too. The kid had no way of knowing how dangerous his handling could have been. The bed was a toy to him. Dean hoped that mistakes like that wont happen again. That was just too close for comfort.

Sabrina wakes up shortly after Brandon nearly OD's on Tylenol, and is updated about what happened. Well outside of Brandon's awareness, she promises to keep Dean's existence a secret from everyone. No one would believe her anyway, or if they did, would think it was witchcraft and that was not at all what she wants.

She guided Brandon to her room and gave him some clothes that he would feel more comfortable in, jeans and a regular t-shirt instead of her usual patterned dresses, skirts, and blouses. Her 'work clothes' were very bright and colorful to fit the stereotypical look, and the poor kid already looked so out of place and upset to rub it in any further. She did insist he wears a bra and pantomimed how to put it on, but he was failing miserably so she threw a sports bra at him instead, one that can't be put on the wrong way and left him to it. They barely spoke to each other, which was a shame because if this isn't resolved quickly, they might be stuck together for longer then a day. They took this one obstacle at a time and shook hands on keeping this a secret from everyone.

Brandon wouldn't even know what to say to people at school anyway. Can't exactly pass for a new student there. So Sabrina offered to have them both call up the school and explain why he couldn't go. Brandon held the phone in one hand and read from a note written out for him. Pretending to be his own mother and excusing him from classes for a few days. Through the stutters and over exaggeratedly female voice, they managed to get it done with 'Brandon' confirming that he'll finish all work as soon as he's able. Sabrina added on a few promises that Brandon was a little irked to hear, that he will clean up the football seats of litter to make up for it. Even if it was unnecessary, Sabrina wanted some kind of payback for the bar incident. Brandon couldn't exactly correct the statement before the phone call ended.

Sabrina folded her arms and said, “Now we're even.”

“Whatever.” He sighed and adjusted the bra into a more comfortable position. “Got any food? I'm starving.”

She hummed at him and rubbed at her stomach. “Me too. I could eat a horse. But I'll settle for leftover pizza.” she said and winked at him as she led him past the couch and noticed Dean give her a thumbs up and she nods back out of the kid's view. Brandon seemed to be dealing as well as anyone in his shoes and practically collapsed at the table while Sabrina cooked breakfast for everyone. Surely the boy wouldn't care for pizza since he works at a pizza place. She made up an elaborate meal because after considering what all Sam had said, it was likely that he rarely ever experienced good fresh food. Not something found in gas station coolers made weeks ago by machines. She hummed as she worked but found the voice breaking here and there. Chuckling to herself.

Sam had been going over the potions list a few times to make damn sure it was accurate and lowered a hand to the table to let Dean climb on. Lifting him up to the pocket since it didn't make sense leaving him upstairs with everyone downstairs. On the way, he took each step very slowly. After a rough wake up call like the one Dean had, he deserved a break from violent tremors. “We will get it all sorted after breakfast.” Sam said confidently. “Bobby knows his stuff.”

“Yeah.” Dean muttered, sitting in the corner of the pocket, feeling hopelessness creep in as he toyed with the small silver knife, cutting idly at the strings sticking up from the bottom of the pocket at the frayed seam. “It'll be fine.” He leaned against the chest and stared blankly at the light bleeding though the shirt. Listening to the heart thumping away and trying not to let that small taunting voice that says otherwise, take root. It will be fine. It _has_ to be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up on the end I think, another two chapters at most. Lemme know what you think the culprit is!


	13. Let's Shelve That Problem for Another Day?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it!

Chapter Thirteen:

Let's Shelve That Problem for Another Day?

 

 

Breakfast was delicious, but Dean was a little unnerved at the sounds his baby brother were making while eating. Soft moans and even softer gasps at the explosions of flavor he hadn't had in years. As Dean can attest to now, food just doesn't taste the same when you're eating one base component part of a meal at a time. Having to choose in what order to eat this omelet that Sabrina made up. Green pepper first, then egg, then chunk of onion, then a chunk of sausage then back to egg. It's not the same as getting it all in one go. Flavors mixing and complimenting each other at the same time. Sam's vocal appreciation had him practically growling possessively over each bite. Dean shuddered when he actually felt half of those overlarge bites go down past his pocket to the stomach below. Gurgling happily away, Dean nearly lost his lunch before it's even served.

Sam was mid chew, working on one of the pancakes that she also made up, when he felt several elbow nudges and paused to make sure the other two at the table had their attention elsewhere before casually bringing up his hand to rub at his neck before trailing down to open up the top of the pocket and peer inside. Eyebrow raising as he swallowed the bite.

Dean didn't say anything just lifting both hands palm up and jabbing in the direction of the stomach, then holding his hands to his ears and then miming throwing up. Dean's pocket lifted and lowered from Sam's shrug and he went back to finishing up. Dean pouted and just had to deal with the hi-def sound effects of digestion. Thankfully, Sam was basically done so he surreptitiously wrapped up the corner of omelet that he had separated from his portion before he started eating, and slipped it off the table in a hand. Dabbing at his mouth with a napkin Sabrina pushed his way.

“That was delicious.” Sam bowed his head respectfully, and Sabrina chuckled merrily.

“Really? I couldn't tell.” Winking at him and waving him off. “Brandon, finish up your orange juice.”

The teen gaped a little at her order, but shrugged, it had been a long time since he'd been looked after like this. Even with minor things. His own parents weren't ones for home cooked meals. Usually microwaving everything in the house rather then warm up the stove. Brandon tried to think back to when it was actually used. Coming up blank. He didn't have to see it to know that Sabrina's small kitchen was likely well worn. She'd only been here in this town for a few years, but gave off the impression that she must like making things from scratch. She might make some good money selling her own meals, if this Wicca thing didn't pan out. Everyone knows the lone diner in town charges far too much, that's why his pizza place is thriving. Brandon thought that her frequent pizza orders are probably for when she wants something ready made. The breakfast food was quite good and he noticed that she was packing away a good portion of the leftovers onto her previously licked clean plate. “You should watch how much you're eating, young man.” He snickered, pointer finger playfully waving in the air.

“Yes Mooom.” She sighed over dramatically. Glad that her favorite pizza delivery man was taking this pretty well, all things considered. Figuring that it might be easier for youths to deal with sudden changes easier then people that have lived longer, used to things being stable and unchanging because they've more or less gotten into a routine. In any case, Brandon was a trooper. He just had to work on his tiny people skills if he ever finds out about the man hiding out in Sam's pocket.

The building was set up strangely, that was becoming obvious to the guests, since the kitchen and tiny dining area were just on the other side of the wall separating the store's main room. A third of the first floor was the 'back area' which had the customers bathroom, storage area where the Brandon's couch was next to the side door, with the kitchen and the dining area behind the wall where the cash register was. The stairs leading up to her place were centered with the building, the door had a big sign saying 'private' on it along with the other doors, save for the tiny customer bathroom.

Sam had excused himself and went to the store room and sat on the couch, pushing aside the blanket and pillow Brandon had chucked to the floor. He lifted Dean from his pocket and set him on a nearby storage bin, wiping off an area to put down the napkin wrapped omelet. Dean waited for the huge hands to retreat before digging in. Sitting cross legged and looking around the room from this different view.

“So, Sammy, what's the plan today?” He said around a mouthful of egg.

“Well, we gotta get that potion mixed up and see if that works. Once it's all together it has to sit for several hours before we set it on fire, douse it, then put each thing in, one by one and hope that it works.” Sam hung his head, hands clasped. “I _hope_ it works.” He muttered and heard Dean agree with him. Lifting his head again, “What did you want to do to pass the time?”

“I was thinking that I would rather get out of here, I don't want Brandon to get all handsy with me again.” Dean shivered and chomped down on more egg to distract himself. “I think, and I know I'll never hear the end of this... I think we could take a walk around town. Check it out. I hate being cooped up like this.”

Sam tried to keep his feelings to himself. Reminded that he's basically keeping Dean captive, no matter where they go. It's surprising, really, he never really felt like Dean was doing it to him. It was his choice to go with him. Of course, he had his freedoms whenever he wanted to explore whatever hotel they were staying at, or when they went to Bobby's, he could go anywhere in the salvage yard with Rumsfeld at his side, or as his _ride_. But Dean's used to going much further then that. No one can blame him for feeling cooped up.

“Did you want to go back to the park?” Sam asked but saw Dean shake his head. “The bar?” He chided, “Can get you a shot glass of whatever you want, like a barrel for you.”

Dean actually considered it, the bar would be mostly empty this early... “Nah. Just a walk for now.” He finished up as much of the omelet as he could and leaned back, rubbing his distended belly. “Damn that was good.”

“She's a good cook.” Sam rubbed his own stomach.

Dean cocked his head with a lopsided grin, “Really? I couldn't tell! You only sounded like you were making love to it.”

“That reminds me...” Sam started and saw the look on Dean face. “Got a girl's phone number in my pocket.” He announced and pulled it out to wave it in the air in front of Dean. “Don't worry, we wont do it in the car.”

“You'll be dead before you drop your drawers.” Dean warned, flipping the silver knife out to aim it at Sam's nose.

Sam laughed and raised his hands up. “I promise. It will be a tasteful date.” He crossed his heart and thought about it. Right. He'd never really went on a proper date before. He had considered courting Krissy, but well, that possibility was probably long gone. Especially if she could see him now. Sam's started to fidget again and he heard Dean groan below. “What?” Sam said defensively.

“You don't have a clue do you?” Dean said, folding his arms. “How to woo a woman of that caliber?”

“Shut up. Can't be that hard. You do it all the time.”

“I have years of skill, Sammy.” He sighed, taking in Sam's slumped posture, indecisive expression and stage fright eyes. And, being the awesome big brother he is, Dean lifted his hands up in a 'what do ya do?' gesture, before dropping them back down. “Alright, I'll be your dating coach.”

“Didn't ask for one.” Sam grumbled. Secretly thankful for any hints but playing it off like he's old enough to know how the mechanics of dating works. In truth, it's all what he'd seen on TV. Hardly practical in real world applications.

“A - always let her talk. If she starts, _never_ interrupt. Ever. She could be talking about the life cycle of earthworms... do not interrupt. Rule number two, pay for everything, even if she offers to go dutch, says she fine with it. She's lying. Pay for it. We got what, thirty bucks left?”

Sam bobbled his head, more or less. Staying at Sabrina's helped their funds but they still wanted to pay her for the ingredients they'll need to use. It's not free for her, everything not sold to customers comes right out of her pocket. And her store isn't exactly the busiest in town. Most of her customers are coming in from far out of town since it's rare to find a Wiccan supply store in their state. The other good chunk of her business is mailed out to people's houses. Sabrina's already loosing money because they will be destroying all of the suspected objects as soon as they're done swapping their bodies back, and everything is sorted. So the brothers wordlessly agreed to pay for what they need. Trying not to take anything more than hospitality and space on her couch to sleep.

Sam listened to Dean's pointers with a disinterested air, but kept a running list going in his head. Flipping the paper between his fingers the whole time, number memorized by now. Dean boasted for a good ten minutes before he felt the ground tremble from an approaching giant and stood up, pointing in that direction until Sam heard what Dean was feeling and brought his hand over, it would take too long for Dean to climb on and get settled so he shot Dean an apologetic look for snatching him up in his fist and bringing him close to his waist out of view, moving Dean towards his pants pocket the same second Brandon stumbled into the room.

Kid looked like he wasn't expecting someone in there and waved a hand at the discarded blanket and pillow. “Was gonna, uh, clean up my mess.” He said and picked up the blanket and started to fold it. “Sabrina offered me a job.” He said, chin tucked down to hold the middle of the blanket still as he kept folding. “Can't believe it.” He finished up and held it in front of himself, looking for a good place to put it before shrugging and setting it on one of the couch cushions and gathering up the throw pillows next, wiping them down as if they had dirt on them. “I always liked coming here, she's like, the only decent person in town. And she's got a lot of cool things here. No one else is as interesting as her.” He pushed the hair back that kept swinging in front as he picked up the shoes Sabrina had worn the night before. Finding the bite of omelet on the box and frowning at it in confusion.

Sam huffed a laugh and said, “That's uh, that's mine. Sorry.” Picking it up with the napkin and holding it in hand. “At my place I throw my leftovers out for the strays.” He made up an excuse and fumbled with the door, finally getting it unlocked and open so he could toss the bit into the alley and shut it again, only to open it a second later. “Uh, I was just going to take a walk, tell Sabrina I'll be back later. No. Wait. Later. Yeah. Gotta do the thing first.” He stumbled past Brandon and strode to the main store area to poke around at the spices and things.

Brandon followed him over, looking at them as well. Hands going to the pants pockets after he shoved his long hair behind himself again. “Damned hair.” He grumbled and huffed, turning to Sam. “What did you need?”

“Got it covered.” Sam said quickly and pointed at the other end of the store. “Since it's basically your first day, don't want to tick off the boss for your training lessons right?”

Brandon studied him for a few more seconds before shrugging. “Yeah.” Then turned to leave but stopped. “So, I just wanted to say, thanks.. uh for what you did last night, and are trying to do. I was an asshole. I just... panicked. Used the excuse I was high and went and got drunk. Then back here, I'm just like, totally dickbag. Sorry.”

Sam grinned at him and nodded. “Sure, it's not a problem.”

Brandon nodded back and found Sabrina writing something down in her supplies lists. A bounce in his step for being given this new opportunity. He'd always been told everyone his age can only get jobs flipping burgers and there was no hope of getting anything better until his twenties. But here? Now? He's got the potential of becoming co-manager of a store!

Sabrina was doing all this by herself and thought that no one would ever want to work for her, so she never bothered putting up ads. Having an apprentice around that actually has interest in these things is a breath of fresh air. Of course, it will take a few days to get her paperwork in order for someone other then herself to make sense of it. But, small price to pay for the help! She's almost glad this strange event happened. Otherwise she'd still be working herself to the bone, and only having regular chats with whomever delivers dinner. It is sometimes too easy to see them as just the people doing a job, and not as someone with lives outside of that job. Brandon mentioned his home life, and Sabrina wanted to adopt him right up. It wasn't terrible, abusive, or anything, but his parents were not the kinds of people that cared where he went, if he aced a test or what happened at his work. Absorbed in their own worlds. Brandon needed someone to show him that they saw something more behind the name tag. She vowed to boost up his self esteem and keep him out of trouble. And he seemed to be craving some kind of structure. Work and school only did so much to a growing mind after all.

Brandon paid close attention to Sabrina's training. It was obvious she'd never done it before, and he thought her method of talking to him like a normal person was better then the training video he was forced to watch at the pizza place. Over acting and lame, they were outdated and not very useful at the end of the day. No plan of action for dealing with real life problems, like a-holes and thieves. Sabrina was showing him the basics of running the register first, how to fill an order, who to call for refills, then jumped right into self defense and how to handle a rifle for thieves. Now this... _this_ is useful! He never wanted to leave this job. Of course, she would handle the register for the first few months and he was to stock and clean, work his way up to being responsible over the cash and mailing orders. Sabrina just wanted to teach him how to defend himself in case something bad happens, that is of course, something _worse_ then supernaturally swapping bodies with people. Before becoming a Wiccan, she was a firm believer that everyone responsible and old enough, should know at least _how to_ operate a gun _safely_. Whether or not they actually _use it_. Not knowing how they work and how to respect them is far more dangerous.

Sam felt Dean squirm in the pants pocket and he finally drew him out into the open again. “Sorry.”

Dean waved off the concern, “Let's get the eye of newt and frogs breath and get the cauldron bubbling already. And never. I mean _never_ put me in that pocket again. Jacket or shirt. _That's it_.”

“Got it.” Sam said dutifully and lifted Dean up to an old wooden shelf to be more eye level, resting his hand there for his brother to get off of the palm on his own. Already having suffered enough indignities this morning. “You know I'd never put you in danger.”

“Yeah yeah, I got your back too, Samsquash. Now let's get this done so you can go disappoint that nice young lady.” Dean chided and planted his feet on the shelf and felt a strange buzzing in his feet, looking down at the wood and then up at Sam who was zapped a second later from a static charge. Dean laughed at the jolt Sam got from wood, and felt his own a split second later. Sam's brows raised and he muffled a chuckle right back. “Jeez Dean, pick up your feet when you walk.”

“Me?! You were the one creating all the friction!” Dean shot back, feeling that buzz die down and shake himself off as his giant brother moved away. “Shut it, we gotta find this crap an... annn.... annnnnn....” Dean trailed off, getting very tired all of the sudden.

Sam turned his head back to his brother after picking up a special candle to light the potion with once they get everything. He saw Dean stagger around as if he was drunk and then slowly fall to his knees, hand going up to rub at his forehead while the other was propping him up from falling further. Sam's worry skyrocketed and he stepped back over to Dean and reached his hand forward to catch his brother before he fell off of the old wooden shelf to the ground far far below. The second he got Dean in hand however, he felt a wave of unnatural calm pass over him. Lightheaded and peaceful in a way that predicts a violent storm. Looking at Dean he saw the same stunned look in the small eyes. Drifting from Sam's face to the ceiling and back.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, barely audible and Sam couldn't stop himself from falling to his knees next, dropping so fast he barely held on, fingers curling tightly around his small brother and felt his hand warm at the contact. It spread all throughout his body and felt that the same thing was happening to Dean. He then slumped to his side in a semi controlled fall so Dean wasn't thrown from his cupped hands. Hearing other worried voices cry out from across the large room, but it got too muffled to understand.

“Dean?” He whispered back, worried he'd hurt him further, but knowing that if he let go, Dean could die from even this high up. A foot and a half for Sam, three story building for Dean. Sam's vision was fading in and out but he stared hard at the small body in his hands, watching Dean loose consciousness. Small head falling to one side. “I got-gotchaaa.” He whispered as blackness overtook them both.

 

Indistinct sounds came to Sam, sounding far off but loud. His body was being moved. The sensation of lifting and falling. Up and down. On the down, it felt a little shaky, rough, until the thing he was laying on lifted and dropped suddenly with a harsh sounding cough. Then it did it again, and he felt like he was tilting sideways until whatever it was hit a solid unmovable object. His head hurt like crazy, but he had to see what was going on. The thing that slammed him down lifted him up again to a wide soft hill. A steady thrum beat underneath him in a rhythm that he sorely missed. The hill rose and fell again, steadier and less raspy then before. His eyelids finally started to cooperate and he saw the underside of a jaw turned to the side. The Adams apple moved when the person he was laying on top of swallowed thickly. Hands twice his size were holding him on top of the chest. Another loud swallow and a harsh breath, clearing out the rest of the throat without coughing as hard this time.

Sam closed his eyes again. The light too harsh just yet and fell back down to rest on his stomach, letting the rise and fall of the huge chest lull him back into semi-consciousness before loosing the fight to stay awake altogether. The heart kept beating on. So familiar and sorely missed. He was back where he belonged.

 

Dean had come to first, hands grabbed a firm hold of his shoulders and kept him from sitting upright. Overpowering his weak attempt with ease. Even as his head felt like it was going to burst with the migraine, he had to see what happened. The hands were stronger then him and he gave up trying to sit up. He tried to speak but nothing came out but a harsh breath. He opened his eyes and felt like someone flashed a camera in his face with how bright it all was. Squinting them almost shut again, he used the small crack to see out. Two blobs overhead. Well _that_ helps. He sighed and it turned into a rough cough which jarred loose a larger one that had him turned to the side by the same hands that were holding him down just a moment ago. Something was in his hands and he tightened his grip subconsciously. Not enough to damage the thing in his hands, just keep it from falling out. He coughed out what he could and laid back on his back, squinting up at the two blobs again. Both moving around his head and he heard murmurs coming from them. One of the blobs split apart a smaller appendage which split again into two even smaller. The muffled sound could be a voice? Is the blob a person holding up fingers?

Dean swallowed, hoping to trigger his mouth into salivating, wetting his sore throat. He lightly chewed on his tongue and that got those spit glands going. He swallowed again for good measure. His mouth was still dry as hell but better. One last big exhale and it was clear. After accomplishing that much, his head felt like it deserved to rest. The blobs went away and he closed his eyes from the light. Hands over his chest, he felt a small ball of warmth there and felt his eyes get warm and wet with emotion. He hadn't felt this for what seemed like forever. He dared not move either cupped hand, fearing that if he did, he'd find out that there was nothing there after all. Turning his head away to make sure he didn't see to confirm the empty hands, even if he feels it putting out warmth, no doubt these were traitorous thoughts. That things were fine and dandy. But, he'd take this fantasy right now.

Dean couldn't quite think straight, remember what happened before laying down here... on the floor? Something very cold and flat. His muscles ached. How long had he been here? Where was 'here' exactly? He sighed out those concerns and drifted off into a doze again. Something added to the padding that was already under his head and a half grin crossed his lips in his sleep when he felt a soft bump against the inside of his hands.

 

“But it's a tiny dude!” Brandon whisper shouted. Being shushed yet again by Sabrina.

“Yes. But they are safe. Both of them were trying to find and get rid of the thing that did this to all of us. We should show them some respect.” She watched as both fell into a deeper sleep then when they'd passed out. Responding to their voices for just a few seconds each. She looked the brothers over, unsure how or if they should try and move them. “We'll let them rest here for a bit. Maybe they'll come to.”

“But... _tiny._.. _dude_.”

She sighed. Of course, she had a different reaction then the teenager, but his first impulse to grab was not acceptable. She'd only just managed to catch his wrist in her much stronger grip and was grateful for the male physique that was strong enough to intercept. “Go grab a blanket for them.” She ordered sternly but not unkind, and pushed at his side to get him moving. Finally, with something productive for him to do, she was left alone with the boys. Carefully checking Sam's pulse on his neck while he held onto his brother. Still going strong. She had no idea what happened. They both were standing here by the shelves and then from what she gathered, Dean was collapsing where he stood, Sam caught him and then fell to his knees right after, protecting the small man from harm as they both passed out without saying a word since then. Even now, it was clear that there was implicit trust between them, not just when they're awake, but sleeping too.

There was no way of knowing if she should try calling paramedics for Sam at least, maybe get a hint as to what happened to his small brother... but couldn't bear separating them, not when they were holding onto each other so tightly. Like the other might float away. Brandon came back with two blankets and a washcloth and she grinned at him for his consideration and he helped her tilt Sam up onto his side gently to tuck in the blanket on both as far underneath the tall man as possible. Trying to cushion his body from the cold floor. The washcloth went over Dean's small form but it looked like the cupped hands were doing pretty well keeping him warm.

They sat back from them and watched them sleep for a bit. She finally stood and double checked her store windows, and door, making sure that no one could see in from outside now that the town was bustling outside. They watched for another hour and finally she pulled Brandon away with her back to the register to get some useful work done. Always in sight of the two in case either of them moved or made a sound. “A Pot doesn't boil when watched.”

Brandon snickered. “But it might get smoked.” Getting the desired eye roll.

They worked for just thirty minutes on filling out orders she was supposed to send out when he heard groaning coming from the floor. Both abandoning the packing supplies to check on them.

“Sam, Honey? You alright?”

The man blinked up at her, face scrunching before the eyes focused and widened. “You're my size.”

It was her turn to squint. “Of course, Sam.”

“Sam... Is he alright?” The man looked up and around for some reason before a look of enlightenment hit him and he looked down at his hands. “Sammy?” Lifting one up at a time, carefully, with infinite slowness. Seeing the prone figure underneath. Unmoving and pale.

“Dean?” She asked, hand going to her mouth to contain her gasp.

“Yeah. I'm back... but Sam... he's not...” His voice was cracking, dry. Swallowing thickly several times. Accepting the cup of water that Brandon thrust into his personal space. Instead of drinking it himself, he dipped a pinky finger into the water and brought the digit to Sam's face. Letting the droplet condense on the end and drop onto the tiny face. Splashing over it and soaking his hair immediately.

No reaction. Dean heart was hammering hard, dipping his finger in again, his whole body trembling. “Come on, Sammy.” he muttered. The finger came back with a bigger drop of water and it fell when Dean was startled at Sam squirming away from the heavy drop of water and bright lights.

Tiny grumbles from the small man who was trying to pull the thick blanket up over his head again. “Noo...”

“Sammy?!” Dean's voice became louder, happier at the complaining man. Fingers gently pushing his brother back out into the open to get a better look. _Check on Sammy_. The mantra running through his head was shouting so loud right now. Finally, Sam's squirms were turning petulant and the man pushed himself to his stomach to lift his torso up and away from the wet spot on the shirt caused by the water. Dean set the cup aside to free up his hands.

Sam hung his head, still fighting sleep and wakefulness, and blinked several times at the thing he was propping himself up on. Feeling the warmth in his hands and knees now that he's becoming more aware. The ground lifting up and down in faster waves and he could immediately discern the beating heart underneath. Sam shot his head up and finally saw the wide grinning face of his brother. The shock made him fall back down again and scramble backwards to sit up. Legs akimbo and hands grasping at the shirt beneath him. “Dean?!” He croaked out and got an excited nod back, a move so exuberant that his body shook along with the chest he was sitting on. He stumbled to his feet and used a nearby hand to stay standing. That hand turned and cupped behind Sam, making him fall into it's protective hold as Dean sat up fully. Other hand coming back to pull his brother up closer to his chest, flattening him out as they hugged.

They were so happy they got to change back that they almost forgot they weren't alone and heard a teenage voice start to blubber behind Dean. Turning slightly to the side to see Sabrina was fighting tears, grinning widely at them. Brandon was still staring at the sight. Unsure what this means for him and Sabrina. What did they do to change back? From what he'd been told is that touching the objects didn't work, and the potion spell or whatever it was in the large cauldron wasn't even done soaking or whatever it had to do, it wasn't done yet. How did they do it?

That question was asked aloud seconds later in various ways by the other three so at least he wasn't the only one there confused as hell.

Dean finally let Sam back out of the hug and offered up the cup of water to his once again tiny brother. Sam cupped it and drank his fill before Dean downed the rest. Both were thankful for the lack of headaches that they'd gotten when they first switched. Sam's 'big brain', as Dean dubbed it, came up with a theory that because of the difference in size, that their minds were trying much harder to cope with the swap then Sabrina and Brandon who didn't get the headaches when they swapped... at least, not nearly as bad.

Sabrina crossed her legs as they all sat on the floor. “Retrace your steps. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Sam spread his arms out. “I was just getting the candle up there and Dean started to pass out on me on the shelf. I caught him before he went over then I started feeling woozy as well. I don't remember what happened after that before waking up just a minute ago.”

“Yeah. I mean, you set me down on the shelf and then bam. Lights were going out in London.” Dean shrugged. “Oh, there was a static charge though. Remember?”

Sam frowned and thought back. “Uh, yeah. I thought it was weird for wood to hold a charge like that.” Both of them looked up at the old wooden shelf and snapped their heads over when Sabrina inhaled sharply. Both hands covering her mouth in shock.

“I never!” She started standing up quickly and hovering her hands over the shelf, looking at all the thing that rested on top. “I thought when you said object... I wasn't thinking... a damned _shelf_! Shelves just hold things!” She said and looked at it from all angles. “I bought this. I needed something rustic looking for the display!” She was dancing in place and Dean leaned back to avoid getting pranced on. Pulling Sam closer to himself. She looked down at them with an apology on her lips but was too excited to stop. “Brandon! Get up here and touch this with me!”

Dean scooted back to give them room and struggled to get to his feet, his body aching from the hard floor but also from what Sam had done to it the day before. He warned the kid to take it easy climbing... but, he'd take these sore muscles and more to have his brother back to normal. Already he could see Sam finally relax. The panic attacks were gone, he was breathing easier and all around just doing better. Dean had to agree. Felt so good to be normal again.

Just before Brandon got close enough to touch, all three humans jumped at Sam's shout, “Stop!” His arms up in alarm. “If what happened to us, happens to you, you're both gonna fall over.” He explained and said, “Dean, put me down over there so you can catch them. Or maybe one of you guys puts it on the floor? Because Sabrina touched it plenty of times but there was no one else touching it at the same time.” His mind working through the problem. “I think, whatever activates it needs two people simultaneously. Should be safe handling it solo. We should be careful with it.”

Dean nodded along. “Yeah. I'm following ya, Pint size. Here.” Dean said and reluctantly set Sam down on a counter nearby, so he could still watch what was going on. Dean held out his hands for nobody to make a move till he gets back. He left for the store room, Sabrina winced at hearing something clatter and fall to the ground but nothing glass or ceramic sounded like it broke in the tumble. Dean came back with a cardboard box long enough for the shelf to fit in. He was about to reach for the shelf but hesitated. “Uh, yeah, no offense, but I don't know what will happen if I touch it again. We don't know what touching it would mean for one of us that had already did the body changing thing twice. I don't want to make either of you swap with me, so until we get this thing destroyed, the safest thing to do for everyone is for only you or Brandon to put it inside the box before you slap the wood together.”

Sabrina belted out a single laugh at the euphemism that was not lost on her, and saw Dean wink at her for getting the dumb joke. She sobered up and considered the plan and put her hand to Brandon to back up and give her room to do this. She gingerly picked up the other things resting from on top of it, without actually touching the shelf itself. Removing candles, spices, herbs and small statues. Setting them off to the side in case these things soaked up some of the magic or whatever the shelf was imbued with. Then took and held a deep breath as she gripped the shelf at both points where it was hooked to the wall and lifted up at the same time, freeing it from the wall and as careful as handling a huge bar of plutonium, she brought it to the box and set it inside. Letting go and sighing deeply that she didn't transport her soul into something else.

A collective whoosh of air filled the store from all of them finally exhaling.

“Ok, now, Brandon and Sabrina? Sit down here and here so you land on these blankets.” Dean instructed as he laid the blankets out and they did as they were told. “And I guess, go ahead.” He shrugged. There didn't seem to be anything more to it. Each reached forward and touched the old wooden shelf and felt the tingle of an electric charge go up into their fingers. Letting go, the charge zapped them and both jolted at that. Each one nervous and expectant before dizziness overtook them both. Just before falling asleep, being guided down to the floor by Dean hands, they both grinned happily. Their bodies were warm to the touch and Dean knew it was working.

Sam and Dean watched the kid and woman carefully. Dean checked their breathing and pulses and gave a thumbs up to a proud Sam. “Nice work, Dean!”

“Me? Dude, you rocked.” He said and stood up again to give their version of a high five where Sam slaps the end of Dean's index finger.

A few hours later, the shop owner and pizza delivery boy woke up and looked at their hands and clothes. Laughing and hugging each other. The shelf had been sealed up in the cardboard box while they slept, and Dean was currently drawing protection sigils on the cardboard top, bottom, and sides. He had to cross off all of the previous marks labeling it as a Christmas tree box before adding the sigils. Sam dutifully informed him that the origin of Christmas symbols were originally pagan based but adopted into Christianity. Dean let him talk, enjoying hearing Sam's voice in _Sam's voice_.

“There. One curse box, to-go.” Dean announced and capped the marker again. He lifted it up and brought it to the store's front door and set it just off to the side for now. Turning back to see that Sabrina and Brandon were packing up the other things suspected of being riddled with magic and putting in big bold letters 'Do not touch!' All the while they were swapping stories and observations of their short time being each other. Becoming new friends despite their differences and this whole ordeal. Even if Brandon was no longer tethered here by necessity, he knew there was no other job he'd want to do then this. The excitement of finding out magic _exists_ and then wanting to help people in need. Sure everyone loves pizza being delivered, but there's nothing like feeding the mind. Even if he doesn't want to practice Wicca, he likes the idea of finding peace of mind using the right meditation and herbs.

Sam was glad everything worked out in the end. Watching the going's on from his perch on top of the register counter when Dean came by and gave it a good solid hip check. Moving it over at least an inch from the blow. Sam stumbled from his seat and glowered up at Dean who looked up and away, whistling nonsensically.

Dean then turned to Sam and a feral glint sparkled in his eyes. “Hey, remember when you turned on the faucet with me in the sink? Tumbled me around in a towel and mussed up my clothes and hair? And remember when you nearly swallowed me whole in the car? And remember when -”

As Dean went on, Sam's face paled. Oh... _right._.. his hands went up placatingly as Dean crouched down low to be at perfect eye level. The green glint turning mischievous.

“My turn.” Dean finished and plucked Sam up by the back of his jacket. His bag nearly falling off before Sam caught it with his foot. “Come along, Pint size!” Dean carried his squirming brother over to the kitchen downstairs and rooted around the cupboard for a second, pulling out something out of Sam's line of sight. Dean's grin was practically manic, chuckling darkly and Sam couldn't spin himself around to see what Dean was up to.

“We can talk about this yeah?” Sam whined but knew it'd do no good. “Ok, I admit, it was wrong of me to do all those things... tell ya what. You get to pick the music and movies for a month.”

“Nope.”

Sam started to sweat when he heard something clinking on the counter, kicking about more to loosen the grip. His jacket almost slipping up enough for him to wiggle out below but Dean clever fingers turned him around to encase him in a loose fist. The bag pinched with his curled pinky finger. “Ok! Fine. Two months. Deal?”

“Nu uh.” Dean shook his head once. Licking his lips.

“Three! Four!”

“Give it up, Short stack.” Dean chuckled at his joke and finished up his masterpiece one handed. Before Sam could blink, he was dropped unceremoniously on top of cold leftover pancakes from breakfast, his bag bouncing right next to him. The second he landed on the fluffy bread, Dean tipped a bottle of syrup over head and squirted the thick brown maple flavored goodness all over Sam's small form. Trying to get up and escape did nothing but evenly coat him in the sticky stuff. Feet sinking into the pancakes like quicksand. His bag wasn't left out of the assault, and Sam knew it would weigh him down due to it being _completely_ coated. At least it was sealed shut so his things should be fine inside.

“Dean!” Sam sputtered out. The over sweet syrup getting literally everywhere. He kept his face mostly clean and fell back onto his butt onto the pancakes when Dean lifted up the plate and brought it to the table.

“Mmmm. Not usually what I have for lunch but, beggars and choosers.” Dean teeter tottered the plate, and picked up a fork that was nearly twice as long as Sam was tall, and chopped off a good portion near Sam's legs. Bringing it to his wide open mouth and chewing noisily. “Oh yum.” Dean smacked his lips, giving his brother a good show. “Sammy, gotta try this!” He cut off another chunk and pushed it against Sam's chest before wiggling it just a bit and bringing it up to his mouth. Chewing just a few times before swallowing it in one big gulp. “Oh, yeah.” He said, letting Sam get his legs free thanks to the chunks missing from the stack. The little man scramble out of the pancakes and onto the plate to wipe off as much syrup and doughy crumbs as he could with his hands. Looking towards the edge of the table to see if he could manage to get down with a sugar laden pack and hook.

“Hang on there, can't get down with a slippery line! That's dangerous!” Dean admonished playfully, using a napkin to wipe his mouth daintily. “Here, I'll help ya out.” Dean smirked and Sam backpedaled.

“No no! I got it!”

“Nonsense, it's not a problem at all.” Dean curled his hand around Sam's sticky body and brought him back into the main store and got down on his hands and knees. “Here ya go.” And dropped his tiny brother off underneath the counter where the most dust was. “Lemme know if you find anything useful down there.” Dean winked before lifting up off the ground and walking away. Pretending he didn't hear the numerous curses being shot at him.

He leaned against the counter by Sabrina and Brandon and said, “Modern day tar and feather.” And nodded down at Sam's form, stumbling out from underneath the counter. Doubled in size from the sheer amount of lint and dust. A scowl that could kill gods and devils on the itty bitty face.

“Find something already?”

“Yeah.” Sam growled out as loud as he could. “Your untimely death.”

“Says the nicest things!” Dean laughed and came back over to kneel down again. “No really, you should look again.” Winking and pointing with his finger to the spot where the counters met.

Sam flipped him off but curiosity got the better of him and he turned back around. Spitting out a bit of stubborn dust and syrup from his face. Squinting in the dark he saw a long string of gold, glinting in the reflected light from above. Staring dumbly at the necklace. Remembering Sabrina telling Dean that he could keep whatever he finds and suddenly, it didn't matter that he was a little gray ball of sticky dirty floof. He was now the _richest_ little gray dirty ball of floof that ever was. Picking it up by the clasp he dragged it out, it weighed a lot to him but this thing could buy him all the little sized meals he could eat for a good year or two. Or maybe his own cell phone. Or new furniture. Or a Little sized football field of nothing but mini M&M's like the worlds biggest ball pit. Eating the chocolates while swimming in them.

Sam looked up at Dean and couldn't even be mad anymore. They were even. If anything, Sam made it out of this better then before. “Fine. You win.” He claimed defeat and felt the warm laugh wash over him.

“God you're a sticky mess. Anyone ever teach you to clean up before appearing in proper company?” Dean clucked his tongue and offered up a palm for Sam to climb on. Sam clutched what he could of the necklace and was lifted up and away. Sabrina was watching the whole thing and winked. The necklace wasn't hers, probably belonged to the previous owner and forgotten for years. No loss on her end. And she felt good for paying them back in this small way.

Dean dropped Sam off in the plugged sink so he could clean up, while he put everything into his car for the trip back to the grand kids that hired he and his brother to take care of this mess. Wouldn't they be surprised to find out what this hunk of old wood does?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? what do you think of my magical... shelf.  
> Nobody expects an old wooden shelf!  
> Next chapter is the last one, I hope you all enjoyed reading!  
> oh and we broke 1000 views?! what? thanks everybody!


	14. The Famous Final Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End is Nigh.

Chapter Fourteen:

The Famous Final Scene

 

 

 

Sam was getting used to seeing Sabrina's place in this new perspective again. Glad that it looks _normal_. The 'Tar 'n' Feather' stunt that Dean pulled could have been a lot worse, so he would take it with poise and grace while he thought up new tricks to pull for the next prank war. For now, there was peace between them.

Dean was sitting on the closed toilet seat, waiting for Sam to get done with his bath, since there was no flat space next to the sink basin for him to climb onto when he's done. Dean was turned away respectfully as he played with his phone. “That reminds me! Hot bar chick!” Dean exclaimed and without further ado, pulled the paper from the pants pocket and with his libido on high alert, rang up the girl's number. He was still turned away from Sam's pool sized bath, however Sam was still privy to the event. Dean was about to lay on the charm the second the other end picked up, but instead of the beautiful voice of the equally stunning lady, he heard a recorded message for an AA group and how and where the meetings are set up. Since Dean had it on speaker to tease Sam, Sam heard all about it. Laughing to himself. Flicking a few drops of water in his brother's direction.

“You should go! Might see her there!” Sam crowed.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned on the cold water for just a few seconds. Sam kept on laughing as he got the remaining bits of syrup out of his hair. The water was murky by the end of it, so Dean kept his eyes up towards the ceiling and followed Sam's directions for draining the sink and letting him rinse off in a fresh stream of lukewarm water. Then, with eyes still averted, Dean placed a dry washcloth into the sink where Sam finished his routine. Getting out another set of clean clothes from his bag that was wedged between the faucet and the plug. The last set of clean clothes he had, since Dean didn't do any washing at all since he was small, and it had been a little while since he had his own laundry day. His clothes, like everything he owns, is too small for conventional human cleaning machines so he had to hand clean every item, or else risk getting them lost or worn thin too fast.

Sam thought back to all the times they got themselves filthy on this _one_ non-monster hunt. Sam thought about making up some more clothes just so he wouldn't wear down the few sets he had. He announced he was done and Dean brought his hand down to collect Sam and his small duffle, putting both in his shirt pocket at Sam's request.

Coming back into the store downstairs, Sam and Dean waved the other two farewell, exchanging numbers if they ran into anything supernatural related again. Dean also gave them Bobby's number if it was serious, and they couldn't reach the brothers, or in case any side effects pop up. “And keep an eye and ear out for anything weird going on. We are jus your friendly neighborhood cursed object destroyers and monster Hunters extraordinaire.”

Sabrina assured them that she wont go poking into the heavy stuff until she reads up more on the other side. Thankfully, being a Wiccan, she stayed away from the dark side anyway, and was better for it. She promised to let them know if any bad witches came by asking for supplies for harmful spells. And Dean was grateful for that. He hated witches, but was totally digging this Wiccan's style.

The brothers were anxious to get the cursed shelf back to Maria Ross's estate to hand it off to the late woman's grand kids for them to deal with. Dean gave a chaste kiss on Sabrina's cheek, “Rain check on that coffee?”

She winked and slapped his butt. “You better!” and waved one last time.

They walked to the car, looking up and down the street. Sam spoke up just loud enough for Dean to hear, “Oh right. Sorry, we never did go for that walk. You seemed interested.”

“What's stopping us?” Dean shrugged and grinned. They started walking, enjoying the peaceful scenery and window shopping. On their way back to the car, they saw Brandon leave in his own for home, honking twice for their attention. Dean and Sam waved back from inside Baby. Watching the town pass by all too soon. It was good to have a hunt where no one died or was seriously injured. And, it also gave them both good insight on the other's side of things. Sam got some much needed social interaction without worrying about being caught in a fist and kidnapped, and Dean got to see what it's like for people Sam's size, so he knows how to act in the future around them. Not that he didn't before, but he always wondered what it was like. Glad to be back, and he knew that he'd have to go to parks more often and just have _fun_. Life can't be 100% Hunting. 'All work and no play makes Dean a dull boy.' He thought wryly to himself.

Dean listened to Sam read the map to him, instructing him where to turn to get back to the Ross estate.

They call up the grand kids and tell them about what they found. Needless to say, even the grand kids were surprised at what it turned out to be, never mind what it's ability was. They all meet up at the main house because something was nagging at Sam's mind about all this.

Dean pulled up into the driveway and see numerous boxes and wrapped up furniture. Now that the grands, Alicia and Max have gathered up all the other items on their lists, they were able to destroy the harmful ones and will keep the rest in storage until the house is sold. The house was so large, with many rooms, it already had several families interested in it, but it had to be emptied and cleaned first for the new owners. That could take at least a month or two.

Dean keeps Sam in his pocket while he goes up to the front door, dragging Max out with him to help bring in the boxes of stuff from Sabrina's. Max identified the shelf as the main culprit, after just a few waves of his hands. Confirming it once and for all. But there was a minor charge in the other things Sabrina had bought as well. Nowhere near dangerous, but he would look into them further before locking them away or destroying them. The siblings only used their own supernaturally charged items. Ones made by others, even family, might not react well to new people. In any case, it was good to be on the safe side.

Now safely inside the mostly emptied out house, Sam insisted he comes out of the pocket. Knowing that everyone there already knows he exists and that Dean is there to protect him, it's alright to do so. It's still a minor shock for the others to see him and listen to what he has to say. The brother and sister did seem to be studying him, but not in an intrusive or inhumane way. Almost as if they are learning a new culture rather then studying a specimen.

Sam's neck tingled and instead of being unnerved at being seen by the humans, he was grateful that the sensation returned to him. Besides, it wasn't warning him of danger, more like, letting him know they were looking his way. He cleared his throat of any wariness, “Hey guys.” Sam said loud enough for them to hear, before turning to climb up Dean's shirt to sit on the shoulder. Trying to be more eye level with everyone. “So, I was thinking. Why would your grandmother have a shelf that makes people swap bodies?”

Alicia and Max look at each other and shrug. Max spoke up, “It could be from some spell ingredients falling on it years ago and mixing together. A side effect from an accident.”

“That's possible, but likely?” Sam continued after they thought about how random that result would be for a spill. “I had a theory that Maria didn't do this, either on accident or purpose, but someone else entirely. From the evidence I saw, she was pretty tidy and organized. I don't think she would have left things out or able to be easily spilled. I believe it was someone else, someone that also lived in the house, and tried their hand at a spell.” Sam said and his eyes searched the floorboards, walls and corners. Pointing at one thin break in the wallpaper. “Dean? Wanna let me down there?”

Dean nodded and brought Sam across the room to the corner, letting his little brother down for Sam to investigate, lifting up the paper and revealing an entrance. Light bulb going off in Dean's head immediately when his little brother zeroed in on the entrance within seconds. 'It takes one to know one.' Went through Dean's head watching Sam.

“What's that?” Alicia spoke up, crouching down to get a better look.

Sam stiffened slightly at the looming human but stepped inside, looked around for a few seconds then back out again, confirming one part of his theory. “Your grandma had people like me living here. Probably still do. And I know if I lived in a house with a gifted person like Maria, I'd pick up on a thing or two over the years. Now, imagine that person wanted to try their hand at a spell? Perhaps they got tired of hiding themselves from humans, struggling to survive on crumbs and fighting off rats and spiders. What if they wanted to change their entire life around? Uh, literally.”

Dean's eyes went wide at the implications. “They'd see someone that they could swap places with. Already has a house in their name, records, a business... a life they could continue, unnoticed. They couldn't just make themselves bigger. We've done enough research on that to know it's a fact.” Dean frowned at Sam but he waved it off so Dean continued on. If anything this hunt had taught him, is that Sam is totally good being his size. “With no history behind their name or face. People like Sam and me always have to hide our tracks, use aliases and find ways of making money and not get arrested.”

“Right.” Sam picked up where his brother left off. “So they'd want a life that already has records that they can basically steal. And, just like how Dean and I reacted to having our minds transposed, we just couldn't handle the drastic change. We basically freaked out.” Sam turned away, feeling sheepish for admitting that even if it was Dean who had it worse off. Sam soldiered on, “I'm thinking that the little person got into Maria's body and couldn't take it all at once. The extreme differences. Or, perhaps, forgot to take care of the health situations that Maria had? Maybe diabetes?” Sam thought of a likely disease that most older folks are prone to have. One that needs constant attention to make sure their sugar and insulin levels are in control. Someone without diabetes wouldn't really understand the oncoming hints and feelings to act before anything happens. Sam's not a doctor, but any number of things could have contributed, not just the shock of changing bodies. Forgetting medication, undo stress, and shock, could easily cause a heart attack. Sam at least had been human for ten years, so the change was great, sure, but manageable. Dean however... Sam's grateful his older brother lived a life chest deep in the supernatural world, and was somewhat used to Sam's world by living vicariously though him. Empathizing with his cursed brother, and picturing in his head what it was like for Sam helped prepare his mind... somewhat. “I believe everything added up after they turned human, and they had a heart attack.”

“So Grandma Ross might still be here? But _small_?” Both Max and Alicia said in unison. The brothers were impressed it was the whole thing. Must be twins. They kinda look like twins.

“Exactly.” Sam said and motioned to the entrance. “People like me use these to get around human buildings without being seen. They're usually pretty hard to notice, but not for my people.” He wondered if he was saying too much, but they seemed alright. Trustworthy. “When Dean and I swapped for the first time, it was when we were asleep at the motel. Not as quick as our switch back at the store. So I'm guessing your Grandmother might be near where the small person made their home inside this home. In their nest of cloth. She might have gotten lost inside the walls, floor, or attic. Houses look like mazes on the inside.” Sam said, hoping they weren't too late. He then faced his brother, “Dean? You guys search the areas you can, and please, _watch your step_!”

Dean nodded gravely. Worried that Maria Ross had gotten hurt since then, trying to contact any number of the people that came for the sale, or when furniture was moved. Never mind the usual dangers that small people have to face. Dean pulled the others away from the wall to start their search while Sam disappeared into the walls to go look. Searching for any evidence that she was trying to contact them before, but too scared to do so face to face.

Sure enough, Sam found evidence of a small person inside the walls. Dust pushed off to the sides signaling to him that someone walked back and forth to create this clear path. He followed it, finding cleaner pathways, and eventually located where the person had made their home. It wasn't very far from the room that Maria used for her Hoodoo supplies. So he pieced it together, this person heard Maria, day in day out, talking with others about her work and got the idea. It was probably carried out on the old wooden shelf that they stood on. Getting the incantation or ingredients together and using the shelf as the conductor for the spell. Sam still wasn't sure if it was a curse, enchantment, spell, or something else. Didn't matter. It worked and kept on working. The person knew that Maria would touch it eventually, because her most used things were on it. All the small person would have to do is sit up there behind a jar or something and wait for Maria to touch the shelf at the same time, and go to bed that night as usual. Meanwhile, Maria would wake up in their small house, or perhaps, somewhere _else_. Sam's blood started to boil at the thought of the small person jumping into an inescapable deep dark hole and falling asleep there to make Maria wake up in the hole instead. Dooming the poor woman. That little person didn't care what Maria wanted, they were selfish and cruel to do this to her. Sam _had_ to find Maria.

He noticed that at the other end of the small house, there was a small nest of fabrics that had its cloth bits torn asunder. Several things smashed or destroyed from anger or panic or both. In any other case, this would be a bad sign, however, Sam took it as a great one. Why would that mystery Little person even bother trashing their own house?

His musings were interrupted at the soft sounds of a girl crying. The weak sniffles were heard on the other side of the house at another entrance. He stepped on a thin shard of broken glass which crinkled loudly in the quiet space.

No point hiding his arrival. “Is someone there?” Sam crept forward, inch by inch, not wanting to startle the girl. “My name is Sam Winchester. I'm looking for someone.” If he got this wrong... he could be in big trouble. Barging into strange people's houses is rarely met with pleasant surprise. Especially one that may know a thing or two about curses. He swallowed and listened. He heard a shuffling and scraping sound when the crying stopped. Replaced with quick breaths before a hand slid out behind a piece of wood. A shy face peeked out next. No anger in it's expression, just covered in dirt and tear stains. Poor girl.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, scared.

“Hi.” Sam smiled kindly, extending a hand towards her. “Are you Maria Ross?”

She nodded, her fear of him dissipating slowly, replacing with relief. Sam knew that look comes after long periods of solitary living. Usually for his kind, it's after many months of living alone, but Maria always had people around. So to go without, to be completely cut off for all this time since the swap... he hated that mystery person all the more. Who would do such a thing? Change places and immediately ignore and forget the human who's life they stole.

Maria looked at him up and down and even though it was as dark as normal homes for people their size were, Sam could see her scrutinizing gaze lighten up considerably. “Your aura is kind.”

Sam grinned wider. “Your family is here. They can look after you. I know this is all very scary but you don't have to be here, alone. Did you eat anything?” He added when she came out more fully and she looked starved thin. His heart hurt at the sight.

“You... you can help?” She asked. Looking to the handmade cupboards, “The food didn't last long. I haven't eaten in days. There was enough water, collected in a large bowl... but no food. I thought I was going to die in here.” The tears started again. “I could hear people out there, they were _so loud!_ Everything would shake... I tried calling back, but no one heard me. I tried leaving this place but, I couldn't... I couldn't get out. It's like a huge maze. Do you know where I am? What happened?” She asked. Then rushed over to one corner and lifted up a button that was probably used as a plate. “Why do I keep finding things like _this_?! I swear it's like a fun house, or am I going crazy?”

“You're not crazy.” Sam said and stepped closer to hold her trembling hand, setting the button down on the scrap wood table. “I'm sure you've already worked it out for yourself? Hmm? Why everything is much larger and louder then before?” Denial is a hell of a thing.

She covered her face, tears wiped away. “Yes. I suspected I somehow shrunk, but, I was hoping it was a dream. I'm not usually this young or thin either.” She gave a half laugh. “Someone was living here, and now I'm in her body. And I think... something bad must have happened.” She sniffled. “I heard them moving my stuff out of my house. Some people crying. My daughters... they rarely visited, and there's only one thing that would bring them together here. They hated my work. Claimed I was faking it. We just, drifted apart. My grandchildren had the gift so I taught them. That only drove my daughters even further away. I heard them... talking about funeral arrangements. What I would have wanted.” She sniffled, hiding her face. “I didn't want to hear so I blocked it all out. Thought I was having a long nightmare. I know that whoever it was, they'd died. Left me here to die in the process. But... it didn't have to be this way.” She was half mad half sorry for the girl.

Sam gave her a warm hug. “It was quick.” He said consoling her as best he could.

“If she only just contacted me! I would have fed her! Made sure she didn't want for anything!” She wailed and slipped to the floor, Sam joined her.

“It's alright.”

“I don't know why I never felt her presence. I usually can with people... perhaps, perhaps she knew how to hide her aura. I don't know.”

Sam considered this. It only took her grand kids a few minutes to find Sam in Dean's pocket. Feeling him there without seeing. He told her what happened since her 'funeral' and that her house is being sold. Her grand kids are here for her when she's ready to leave. “I know this is all so messed up.”

“That is one big understatement, Son.” She said and scowled at the walls.

“But you know that they can help you. I can show you some of the tricks I use to get around, but, it's up to you to find your own way. You're young again, hell, younger then me! You're able to do so much now. You can keep on teaching Alicia and Max, and look out for them.” Sam said, hoping that she'll look on the bright side. He felt her relax a little into his side. Now that someone knew what happened to her, made her feel much better. If nothing else, she wasn't _alone_. The days of shouting till her lungs hurt, and not being heard... Sam's people were taught that was the last thing they should do. Never draw attention to themselves or risk getting captured and killed. But she didn't know any better. Just knew she was in a strange place and no one could hear her calls for help because the walls were thick and solid. Damn near soundproof compared to the thin walls in the motels that they stayed at.

Sam could only imagine the horror of thinking that she could die all alone in a maze she didn't know how to navigate. No skills or knowledge how to survive in a human's world, even if she did get out. Food was probably the first thing removed from the house so it wouldn't spoil or attract mice or bugs. So she would have starved to death. She was halfway there already. Sam pulled out a halved peanut and handed it over. “Sorry, it's all I have at the moment.” She accepted it with glad tears now, and a bit of awe at the size of the legume. It had been bad before, but now, things were looking up.

Sam asked, “Are you ready to see them? I know it's going to be a hell of a shock. This is from my own personal experience. I too used to be human sized back when I was a kid, before I was cursed. But recently, my brother and I swapped places just like you and this girl, and we saw life in a completely different way. It was terrifying at first for my brother and me, but we figured it out, and I know that you and your family will too.” He said and stood up, tugging gently at her thin arms to join him. “Let's get you home.”

She nodded a bunch of times. Chewing on a bit of the peanut. At least the texture was more or less the same at any size. It was more the fact that the thing was the size of a cereal bowl. She took another bite and tucked the rest under an arm, letting Sam pull her to her feet. Wanting to get out of this damned place.

Sam picked up a discarded supplies bag that resembled the ones that all Littles have, and stuffed it full with spare clothes and some things that will be useful for her. A needle made for their size is one of the most invaluable tools. It's usually carved out of animal bone for its sturdiness and durability. He found two and packed both along with some thinned thread to start. Any fabric could be pulled apart for its base components of thread, but for a beginner, this is easier to work with until she gets the hang of it. The next thing in the bag was a home made knife made out of a triangle shaped Exacto blade, one that is used most often by artists for detail work, that sported a carved mouse bone handle. Decently made. Dean would be impressed. It will be invaluable to her later. He started showing her how to use it as well as the other tools in her new life. It wasn't often that he had to tell people how to live at 1/20th their former size, but at least this one has a happy ending. Maria wont be abandoned.

They looked around one last time and she kissed her fingers and laid them on the door frame. “I'm sorry I didn't get to know you in life.” She said to the room. Wishing she had found out the girl's name at least, but it wasn't written anywhere at all. It made it both easier and harder on Maria. Not knowing the girl's past. She was upset that the girl forced this on her, for nothing but selfish reasons, but she didn't deserve death. Stealing Maria's life only to have it overwhelm her. If only the girl contacted Maria...

Sam waited for Mrs. Ross to make her peace with the place and held out a open hand for her to slip hers into. He led the way down the pitch black tunnels and walls, and she nearly laughed at how close she really was to the entrance. “I kept going through the other door. Slowly mapping it out in my head but I always got lost and turned back.”

Sam shrugged. “It's ok. No one is perfect their first time out. I was getting lost even after _months._ ” He chuckled and kept the fact that his motel was much _much_ larger then her house, to himself. No need to rub it in. “Ok, I'm going to go out and find Dean. You can stay here or come out. It's up to you. I recommend coming out and getting a feel for how large things are now before they show up. Take your time. I'll let them know you're still here and alive.” He then left the opening and jogged along the foot boards where the wall meets the floor. Feeling the telltale rumble of someone walking. He knows those steps anywhere.

“Dean!” He shouted and the steps halted and started to hasten back over.

“Hey, Pint size.” Dean rumbled overhead and held out his hand for Sam to climb up. “Find anything?”

“Yeah, Maria is alive. Hungry and scared, but alive.” He announced, declining the lift to go back to the opening on foot. “Tell them to go super slow. You know what to do.”

Dean gave an emphatic nod. “More then before.” And got back to his feet to break the news to the others.

Alicia and Max stepped as lightly as they could into the room and immediately got down onto the ground. Laying on their stomachs before even being asked, and resting their heads on their hands. Practically a mirror image of themselves. Definitely twins. Dean sat on the floor a little ways off to the side as referee even if the job wasn't needed. Max had mentioned that after they found out about Sam and his people, they had been doing research off and on on his kind and found a fair bit of information. Some wanted and useful, some _terrifying._ Like the fact that in other countries, they are bought and sold as _pets_. Anyone that runs across the websites would think it was all made up, for fun. Humans pretending to be tinies and giants describing how they were going to capture and train them. Making it sound like role playing as a front.

Now they knew better and vowed to help in any way they can. Sympathizing with those poor people. They planned on doing their special searches for these places and people responsible, and then figure out how to save them. Dean promised to head out the minute they find a dealer. All of them were disgusted with the whole thing. Dean was already looking forward to freeing those people from a life lived in a cage. Remembering when Sam was very nearly lost... Dean shook his head. Here and now, he could help this one victim.

Having thought their beloved grandmother was dead, only to find out that she's alive and in someone else's body... one that's only 3.7 inches tall.... it was a shock. The siblings held their breaths when they saw Sam disappear back into the walls, waiting to see Grandma Ross again.

Sam stood next to Maria who was visibly shaking. “Whenever you're ready.”

She touched the wood around the opening and closed her eyes, putting out her senses and grinning. “It's fine. Oh, thank goodness! I haven't lost the gift. I thought I was imagining your aura earlier. Wishful thinking making me see the blues and indigo.” She beamed and wiped her tear streaked face. “Their energies are stronger to me now, yellows and pink, but I can feel they are determined and understanding. That makes this easier.” She admitted quietly.

Sam had no idea what the colors mean, but agreed with her before following her out. She gasped at the sight of it all. Blindingly bright after being in the dark for so very long. She squinted and shielded her eyes as the others gasped as well. The lungs able to take in far more air then her's, so it was _intensely_ noticeable. She could feel the tremors in the ground from them just adjusting their positions. And the minor ones from their _hearts_ beating since they were still pressing themselves to the floor to be more at her new eye level. Someone's foot was tapping nervously far away.

Finally, Maria looked up and saw the hopeful expressions before her.

“Hey, Grandma.” Max whispered, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“We thought we lost you.” Alicia said right after.

“Almost did,” Maria found her voice. It was bewildering to say the least. Taking time to just take it all in. Thankfully, no one made it awkward for her, pointing out the silence that stretched out as she craned her neck to look far up at the ceiling above. High as the clouds. Alicia looked up as well, clearly picturing the view from down here. Maria hesitated for just a moment before taking a few steps forward. Sam helping her along. “But we'll figure this out.”

It was the grand kids turn to tear up, nodding and promising that it'll be alright.

“Now what did I tell you growing up? About getting your clothes dirty?”

They chuckled. “Not to.” Said in unison. So they both scooted back enough to sit upright on the floor while Maria stepped closer on her own. Sam saw Alicia hold out her hand, palm side up and was glad that they took their advice and were going to take everything extra slow and easy. She was in good hands, literal and figurative.

Sam jogged over to Dean and was lifted up with practiced ease to the shoulder closest to everyone else. They got up from the floor and moved to the kitchen to get Maria something more nutritious to eat then a peanut. While Max cooked up some vegan lunch for everyone, Sam and Maria were on the table. Sam was telling her the basics on how to climb in general, and Dean was informing Alicia and Max what to do as well. How they could help her out by making a few ladders for her out of view of any visitors. Simple small ones that could be rolled up or put out of the way in seconds. Similar to the ones used on ships made out of string and Popsicle sticks with holes punched through the ends to keep them from flipping. They already knew how to tie a variety of knots so that cut the lesson in half. Sam used his own line and hook to show her how to rappel down the table and climb up it again. Alicia stared openly, and Max nearly burnt the food watching the four inch tall man just leap off the table like that. Dean had a proud smirk on his face whenever Sammy got to show off his skills. Teasing him for it sure, but glad Sam was back to his old self.

Lunch was served, Max loved cooking and got the things gathered and prepared for his famous chili when Dean called them up for this meeting at his Grandma's house. Knowing there was no food here. Max wanted to introduce vegan food to the burger loving Hunter. And it was _good._ Sam enjoyed it and already knew that Dean would deny to his dying breath, that sound he made at how delicious it was. Who knew that with the right spices, and sauce, that tofu could taste just like hamburger? Max looked smug as hell at the expressions Dean was trying so hard to hide. Alicia was too busy to notice, getting her small Grandmother and guest their own plate made up. Nothing smaller then a teacup plate in the house. Maria told them where she kept her shot glasses from different states and she used that to scoop out a portion for the small people. Sam pulled out his own bowl made out of aluminum foil, and showed her that she had one as well, it was just folded up. Some innovations were common sense among their kind. Alicia wasted no time at all in producing another sheet of foil that she spent tearing and forming into tiny plates and trying to get the bowl just right when she gave up and handed it over. Maria was beaming with pride at her granddaughter and used it as is. Informing Max that he outdid himself this time and Dean grunted in agreement before stopping himself. Sam was wondering if Max was willing to share the recipe... perhaps he could use his gold necklace money to buy some tofu and bribe Dean into frying up some the next time they get a motel room with a kitchen.

Another thing they discussed once the meal was underway, was letting them know who they could trust and if they wanted to meet others like Sam and Maria, that they could go to the Trails West motel and leave a scrap of paper in the vent saying, 'Sam and Dean Winchester sent us.' And someone there will find it, calling the brothers to double check it's validity before making contact. Sam's adopted and extended family at the motel knew that the brothers would _never_ risk their safety to someone untrustworthy. Giving out their real names to strangers isn't something they are in a habit of doing in _any case_ , let alone, telling any random human where Sam's family lives. But they had gotten to know these people well enough that they could be trusted. They might need the guidance in the future.

Maria thanked them for the offer, but insisted that they'll be good on their own, and will only call if they absolutely needed to. The Ross family is good at being self sufficient enough to help people. And with Maria still around, she can keep going with her life's work.

Dean got permission from Maria to inform Bobby that she's alive, would like to become a partner and ally against the dark invisible forces in the world after all. It will make the world a brighter and better place. After the lunch and very long chat, Dean got a call for a hunt in the next state over and they had to leave earlier then they wanted.

“Take care of yourself, Maria.” Sam said and gave her one last long hug. “Phone call away. Promise.” He whispered to her and she squeezed back tighter. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when she pinched his rear.

“I'll keep it in mind.” She winked and the whole thing went unseen by the giants on the other side of the room.

Sam blushed furiously and stepped back out of the hug.

She pouted for a second. “I ain't dead yet!” And shoved him away before the poor kid fell in love with her. “Don't get any ideas, Boy. I may look twenty but I'm old enough to be your grandmother.” She berated as if he was the one that started it!

Sam jerked a nod back and practically sprinted away from her, respectfully. “Ya ready, Dean?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Good to go?” Pitched far lower then what's considered healthy. Part of him wanted to gloat that he got the girl in the end, but not really... more so then Dean did at least, but that would just add more questions and he should really stop thinking about it right now.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam's reddening face, and came over. “Sure thing. See you guys later!” He lifted Sam up to his chest and let Sam decide where to from there. All the while Alicia and Max stared wide eyed at how fast the short man was getting around as he climbed up to the collar and got settled. The sheer amount of trust involved. It really put this into perspective, and they will strive to do right by their young tiny grandmother.

Now that the brothers were back outside, Sam let out a sigh. Finally done with this job and onto the next.

Dean got into the car and revved the engine, so grateful to be back in his rightful place, and Sam in his. “Ok, Colorado, here we come!”

Sam settled in for the long drive. Watching the miles fly by and going over the details for the hunt that's in their future. “So something has been eating people in the woods?”

“Yup. Lloyd says it's fairly close to the town Oz's in.”

“Huh. Maybe we can check in on Oscar.”

“Yeah, wouldn't mind seeing how the littlest Little is doing.”

“I think Kara has that title.” Sam added.

“No doubt. Just thinking about that tiny tot makes me want to check and see if she's climbing up my back or head.” Dean shivered. Kara was harder to keep track of when she wanted to use the human as a living jungle gym. “Well, I think this one should be a pretty easy hunt to figure out. I'll let you know when we cross state lines, for now, get some shut eye.” Dean said and turned down the radio to a quiet murmur.

“I'm beat.” Sam agreed and slumped down, folding his arms. “Having to rescue your butt nonstop has worn me out!” Sam snickered and Dean shrugged his shoulder up once just to tease him.

“Bitch.” Dean muttered.

“Jerk.” Sam yawned.

The Impala ate up the miles, eager to get back to work even if she enjoyed having her younger boy drive for a day. The engine purred as fields passed them by like green and gold blurs from Summer. All along the highway rested tiny burgs, islands of homes amid farmlands and wilderness. Small towns that hold their own stories. Maybe one day they will hear them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'ja think?  
> I wish I added the grand kids names before this chapter, so I think I'll go back and throw them in. Imagine they were there all along!  
> The name Maria Ross is from Fullmetal Alchemist - no relation to the character  
> and Alicia and Max are the twins from a recent episode. - almost no relation to those characters. as in, the barest hint of similarity. in the show, they were raised by hippy witches? I think? Haven't seen the episode since it aired.  
> (The vegan chili is one that my old boss made for a contest and won, no one knew she didn't put any meat in it!)  
> The chapter title is a song title by Bob Seger - used for Kevin's funeral scene.  
> http://positivemed.com/2013/12/15/how-to-read-auras-the-meaning-of-each-color/ for auras  
> If I made any mistakes, big or small, (rimshot) lemme know and I'll fix them asap!  
> I hope you have a good one and that you check out my other ramblings!
> 
> So this is what they were up to just before they went to Oscar's hotel, the Knights Inn, and discovered a tiny dragon in the walls.


End file.
